(Revamp) Aria of Isolation
by Soojimasu
Summary: Over a year and one broken promise later, Ziggs and Rumble find themselves picking up the pieces of what they had, have, and could be. Delve into the strange minds of Bandle City's most wayward yordles throughout their past, present, and future.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey everyone! With the rewrite going a bit slower than expected, I've decided to not only post the finished chapters here but also KEEP the original version of the story due to their many differences and for reference. I hope you enjoy the upcoming content and remember that all chapters can be read with pictures and music on AO3 as well!**

* * *

**Aria of Isolation**

**Prologue: Solo**

Tap, tap, tap. The graphite point poking at the empty paper as fast as the foot tapping against the crossbar of the stool. It wouldn't make words. How could it? It had been more than a year since he saw him face-to-face or even said a word to him. His free hand grasped his forehead. Eyes darting, sweating at the brow, chest tight with anxiety. Then, a snap. He broke the pencil again, tossing the halves away and lifting a new one from the mug.

"C'mon…" he thought to himself. "Say something…anything."

The tip ran along the paper at last.

_Hi Rumble,  
It's Ziggs_

He crumpled it up, starting anew; another paper ball for the pile.

_Hey buddy!  
It's your best pal, Zi_

Nope. One more for the pile. He thought some pacing would help. Walking around his lab, he could hear the hum of the ventilation system passively operating above him, the bubbling of chemicals he'd forgotten about. He was meant to do something with these ragged runes strewn about his side counter. Who cares? None of that was important now. But they should be. After all, he worked so hard to get where he was now. He should be happy. He should be tossing around his signature smile like everyone expected of him, running headlong into countless scientific breakthroughs in hextech. Yet here he was, perplexed by one of the world's simplest tasks: writing a letter.

He jumped back up atop his stool, ready to tackle his toughest project yet. A deep breath and the pencil went to work again.

_Hey Rumble,  
It's Ziggs. How are you? I hope you're doing great!  
Piltover is great. Everyone here accepts me. No one's afraid of me here._

He paused.

_I'm sorry for not being around lately.  
I'm sorry for leaving you alone.  
I know I said I'd be right back, but a lot has happened and  
I'm sorry  
I'm sorry that I  
I hope you're doing great and  
I'm_

That was enough lies for one sheet. He was getting it wet, anyway. He crumpled up another one and off it went to join the others. The pencil fell from his hand, both now gripping his head in frustration and anger. Anger at the Academy. Anger at Heimerdinger. Anger at himself. Any harder and his nails would pierce his skin. He was happy about one thing, though; he was happy that no one would see him like this. His lab door was firmly locked, and the next sheet was already dilapidated in despair. Trickling tears from the ends of the fur on his cheeks. He hated this ritual. Yet this one was especially hard on him, just like the smash of his forehead against the tabletop. His ears drooped down past his leaky eyes. After all, there was a first time for everything.

"Happy birthday…buddy."

* * *

Crank, crank, crank. The wrench tightened the bolt in its hold. He could only taste the metal of the screwdriver between his teeth as he peered up into the battle suit's interior. It was getting worse and worse every day. Neglecting the trips back to the Junkyard for spare parts, never replacing a thing no matter how worn it became. He couldn't bring himself to return to that place, to travel that same dirt path, to pass under that same arch they looked up to; it was painful in every regard. It wasn't just him hurting from it, his battle suit was falling apart the more attempts he made to upkeep the same worn pieces. The bolts were rusty, the pistons worn down and the gear joints needed replacements. The long list in his head was demotivating enough and he shut the hatch door with unfinished business and all.

Rolling himself out and off his creeper the blue yordle took a glance at the homemade clock hanging on the wall. Its ill-fitted hands ticked. Noon. It was that time again, time for nothing to happen. But maybe, just maybe… He waited, staring at the garage door with ribbons of light surrounding it. Nothing. He even raised it up to look outside. Sun shining, birds chirping. Absolutely nothing. A part of him always tried to shake him away from this hopeless ritual yet another part was much more influential. It told him to go back in, lock up shop and head to the docks.

And so he would, opening the wooden drawer at his ragged desk for his key. There was another right next to it, entrusted to him. No, he couldn't go there either, not after the destruction he left behind. Get on with it, that part of him demanded, and off he went.

If it wasn't for a sound of ebbing tides and soft sea breeze these moments would tax him even more than they already did. On the hill overlooking the docks he sat curled up, arms over his knees that pressed against his aching chest. He could see the ship lower the sails and park along the wooden boards. Yordles boarded off the ship, some from a visiting voyage, some unloading cargo. Even humans found their way onto yordle soil. That left Rumble with a bad taste. Even worse, he was nowhere to be seen. He questioned why he put himself through this, if he was going insane and if he truly would never see him again. Worriment for the other had been long replaced with anger: would it even be safe to see him again?

"I knew I'd find you here," a feminine voice spoke up behind him. Caught in the act, he rolled his eyes to stand and face her. Tristana, standing there with her hands on her hips and face of disappointment. "Damn it, Rumble, not again! When are you going to stop this?"

"I was just…getting some fresh air," he lied, not that she would believe it for a second.

"Yeah? In the same spot you always go to when you're looking for him? You're really hopeless sometimes…"

"Leave me alone, okay?"

"Is this how you want to be on your birthday? Sulking alone out here?"

Rumble was silent because he knew she had a point; this pointless ritual wasn't worth the time of a yearly celebration. Feeling half his age, he scratched the back of his neck, unable to speak for himself; he was ashamed and must have looked pathetic. Tristana's hair flipped up with her huff of displeasure.

"Listen, how's about we do something together other than staying cooped up in your garage, huh? I'm sure anything would put you in a better mood than _this!_" she suggested. Rumble feared where this was heading.

"I'm not joining a mission with you and Teemo, y'know."

"No Teemo this time. Just you and me! How's that sound?"

Since the other's departure, Rumble noticed a shift in Tristana's behavior; she was hanging around him more frequent. He couldn't tell if this was out of pity or genuine interest. He didn't mind, however, harboring a soft spot for her as they grew up alongside… Damn it, he had to stop thinking about him. Play it cool, he told himself.

"I'm…pretty on board with that," he said, with a smug cross of his arms. "What did you have in mind?"

Tristana looked past him, noticing the humans mixed with the fellow yordles walking from the docks. While she harbored no ill will towards humans she found the plan too perfect to pass up. After all, it wasn't everyday humans visited their scaled-down world.

"Well, there're some human visitors we're getting. Probably from Piltover seeing as how they're clothed and all," she began.

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"They're probably going to be _all_ over the city, too."

"I'm sure they're here to just shove their crowning achievements in our face or some shit."

"We can't have that, can we?" Her smug mug matched Rumble's before his turned to disbelief.

"_You'd_ chase humans out of the city? That's not like you at all."

"_I_ wouldn't! But…" Tristana began a not-so-innocent walk around Rumble. "Perhaps if some weird, highly unorthodox events that were completely not under my control were to happen and they get scared away…"

Rumble chuckled at this, "Good girl gone bad?"

"More like…gone _playful_."

He took a moment to consider his situation: nothing else was planned for his day other than avoiding places he should have visited by now. He had begun his slow descent into loneliness just as it was all those years ago and Tristana's presence was like a ripple in his still water. It was decided with a nod and a smile of rarity.

"Alright, I'm in. Let's give 'em a run for it!" Rumble pounded his fists together.

"I'm only doing this because it's your birthday so don't get used to me being your accomplice!" she giggled, motioning for him to follow her. He did comply immediately, looking over his shoulder at the ship that was preparing to set sail once again through the Guardian's Sea. Just one look and his smile was erased.

"_It's been over a year since you left…" _he thought to himself. _"Ziggs…where the hell are you?"_


	2. Touring the Yordle Academy

**Aria of Isolation**

**Chapter 1: Touring the Yordle Academy**

Time was a fickle flow of unpredictable outcomes. One moment, a cheer of victory. Another moment, the death of a civilization. Like the twinkling of stars, they faded in and out of his vision. The past, the present, the future: were they even reachable here? He wondered how long he had been searching for as if time was measurable to him. Defeat weighed heavy on his tired, immortal eyes. Wide were they when he saw his answer, reaching for it like the last thread of hope it was. Where did lead from? How long would it take? What was to be put into motion? He peered in ever so curiously and what he saw was...unorthodox.

* * *

_"Goo-ood morning all you beautiful deco-peop-oh! This is FM 989.0 HXTC comin' at ya with some steamin' hot tunes to get your gears turnin' all morning long! Let's hear it!"_ the transmission cheered. The music played.

It was a pointless effort to keep himself asleep; the ribbons of light seeping through the blinds made sure of that. The littered bedroom filled with the warmth of the sunrise's light and the blaring sound of the holo-radio.

The host, the music, they were more upbeat than the groaning yordle could ever bring himself to act that morning, or rather, since he settled here. He detested that radio, wanting to drag everything around him down with his misery. His sluggish hand clawed out from the covers, swiping and slapping the small nightstand next to him. Here? Nope, just some goggles. Here? Nope, wrong button. Fuck it. A balled-up fist hurled into the loud device, tugging right off one wall and crashing into another. The transmission promptly ended.

He couldn't even bring himself to get out of bed properly, his will absent and his body rolling out with a thud. This fatigue was unnatural and everything around him was blurred out of focus. Using the windowsill for leverage, he made a big mistake by parting the blinds as the hissing sunlight burned into his unprepared eyes. A few moments of adjustments and he could see the emptiness between the many trees scattered around the living community. In a blink, it was lush with residents walking around to their own business; they looked just like him.

His aching body stretched here and there and the more he came to his senses, the more he remembered just what day it was. There were weeks of planning and building for this day and he should have been proud, excited even. Yet the thought of home coming so close to work was frightening more than anything. Who would attend? Corki? He seemed interested in contraptions enough to give it a visit. Teemo? Maybe not, unless Tristana brought him along. Tristana. He missed her a great deal. Yet, whenever he thought of her, another blue yordle came into mind.

Damn it, not again. This was the 527th morning he popped into his head, not that he was counting or anything. Just the thought of him appearing so suddenly was enough to put a wrench in his gut. It had been over a year since he went radio silent from his homeland. What words would even come close to sufficient if he saw him? He had to shake the hopeless thoughts away from his head lest they drag him down on this momentous day.

A quick look in the mirror affirmed his sadness; this wouldn't do. He slapped his cheeks and tugged at his fur, "Pull yourself together, Ziggs…" he told himself, "…today is **not** the day to choke up. You got this! All you, baby!"

One pep talk later and it was off to wash up. He had an interesting ritual where he attempted to swiftly remove both his socks at once only to fall flat on his back with a giggle. By the time he returned to the mirror, his fur was much more kempt and teeth bright in another attempted smile. His headpiece slipped on snug and his earring situated on the left side.

"Looking good, handsome!" he complimented, _"Just keep smiling…"_

Out the door and under the leafy canopy, the living community was traced in winding paths and oddly-shaped trees to emulate the whimsical environments known around Yordleland; Piltover's attempt at appearing more inviting to their increasing yordle population. Under the arch, 'Daintree Cove' it was called, named after a location of the same moniker which grew bending trees in a small cove by the sea. And although the community was scaled down for typical yordle necessities, the remainder of the city was scaled to humans. This was made obvious by the enormous buildings that towered above him and the wide streets that accommodated large vehicles and varying groups of citizens. Ziggs always thought driving his own car would save him time and enhance his appeal, however, vehicles for yordles were somewhere between extremely rare and nonexistent; it would be one foot in front of the other for him.

The city itself was always bustling, to say the least, not just in the inhabitants walking, talking, pointing and building, but in the amount of information strewn about. Merchants shouting about their "latest" and "greatest" contraptions, advertisements and signs along the walls and fixtures, and the many elaborate architectures of the living, breathing towers. He didn't pass by people, rather, just their legs and hips. He could see a Wanted poster featuring his face in the corner of his vision, yet when he took another look it was just another common crook's. He'll arrive late if he kept stopping and selective attention was never his strong suit.

The Yordle Academy of Science and Progress was the shining pinnacle for yordles here amidst the other shining pinnacles that shined atop the city's pinnacles. Like their own capital, it rose high towards the sky, rivaling neighboring institutions. Its many towers, wide structure and open doors let anyone with aspirations know that they were invited here, Ziggs included. He smiled as he took step after step past conversing yordles and visiting humans.

Inside, the Academy was far from shy and made no effort in hiding its advances; the tall ceilings stretched several stories high and innovative machines were proudly displayed across the lobby. Networks of bridges and hallways created a collective atmosphere where every scientist worked in unison. Engineers followed each other with charts and papers, students followed instructors and onlookers stared and listened to on-display achievements. It was especially transient today, however, given the scheduled event that was hosted and Ziggs was ready to join the fray.

Shifting and dodging through the chaotic hullabaloo, he stopped at the elevators past the Hextech Grappling Hook station. He waited for the familiar _ding_ to bring him up.

"Aha! There you are, Zigmund!" exclaimed a very familiar voice. He didn't need to turn around to figure out who it was, "I was beginning to worry myself with your lack of urgency!"

Heimerdinger, the famed yordle himself, titled the Revered Inventor, half responsible for the formation of the establishment and nearly entirely responsible for Ziggs' own title here. He was looked up to by just about every enrolled student and professor alike and the ability to learn in the same institution was an honor in and of itself.

His olive-furred assistant, however, was only beginning to find his own purpose at the Academy. Gustaav, he introduced himself as between adjustments to his round glasses. More of a multi-purpose subordinate, he was always excited to do his part to help even if his anxiety showed otherwise. His tuft of curly fur above his forehead bobbed with each step beside Heimerdinger and he clung onto his clipboard as if it was the last thing he owned.

"Good morning, Dean of Demolitions!" he greeted with a quick bow, aware of his presence amongst higher powers.

Ziggs took a moment to stand there, frozen in his own thoughts, _"Don't let 'em see you worried. Don't let 'em see that you're scared shitless about today!"_ He painted a convincing smile on his face to shine at them with open arms, "Heimy! Gus! Just call me Ziggs, will ya? _And_ don't worry about a thing, Heimy! _Everything_ is under control! Yup! 100% not gonna choke!"

"I would expect nothing less from the Dean of Demolitions. You _are_ the main attraction to the opening ceremony and we cannot have aspiring scientists sit in boredom when there is opportunity airborne!" Heimerdinger stressed with a finger in the air.

"Trust me, the crowd's gonna be so blown away they'll find themselves all the way back in **Bandle!** Haha!" Ziggs joked, "Not that I'm actually blowing people out of the room! …unless you want me to!?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort. Just remember that the touring group is set to appear here at noon. Will you be present during the rest of the opening debriefing?"

"No can do, Heimy! I gotta prep my lab for visitors so they don't get an eyeful of ammonium nitrate when they waltz in!"

"Oh, of course you must…" Heimerdinger shook his head in a huff, "I suppose your explosive demonstration will be presence enough. Remember, your performance will serve as a symbol of the knowledge you've accumulated here at the Academy inclusive to your hard work these past weeks! Imagine it as a way of displaying your potential as the _Dean of Demolitions!_ Hold your title with pride, Zigmund!"

"D'aww, a pep talk from the big shot himself? You got me blushin' over here!" Ziggs smiled, holding his cheeks.

"Is this another one your protégés, Cecil?" an aged voice asked as it approached their meeting.

All at once, the yordles had to look up. With his cane in front of every authoritative step, the taller human stopped to loom over them. His black, leather shoes shined against the light that led up to his pinstripe suit, fasted with golden buttons. The rest of him was covered in a blood red robe, trimmed in gold that contrasted with his white gloves that sat atop one another against the ball of his cane. Even the book buckled to his hip was laced in gold. His judgmental eyes peered down, the left through his monocle and the right through his skepticism, with eyebrows furrowed under his wrinkled forehead and white tufts of hair.

"Ah, Mr. Medarda!" Heimerdinger's disposition changed drastically as if the alpha male in the room had arrived. "How are you this morning? I hope you're well-rested for today's proceedings!"

"I am, but that doesn't answer my question."

"Right! Of course! Zigmund, this is Jago Medarda, head of the Medarda merchant clan and one of the most powerful and wealthiest people in all of Piltover! And this is Zigmund W. Quark! He's our institution's Dean of Demolitions and will be an integral part of this event's opening ceremony including the many workshops and exhibits we have prepared throughout the—"

"I see. I've heard your name perhaps once or twice in passing," Jago stepped closer to Ziggs who appeared unfazed by his presence. Meanwhile, Gustaav had resorted to cowering behind Heimerdinger in a shaken mess.

"That's me!" Ziggs extended an excited hand up, "Just call me Ziggs, Prego!" The older man scowled beneath his mustache.

"And you will address me as Jago…" he corrected, lifting the yordle's hand up with pinched fingers and dropping it back down, "…properly."

"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Medarda! All those years of close-proximity hexplosive testing have left his hearing impaired! Ohoho!" Heimerdinger stumbled for excuses.

"You bet it is! These ears are always ringin'! Listen!" Ziggs held his hands behind his fuzzy ears, still and silent, "…nope! Nothin'!"

Heimerdinger tapped his fingers, sweating beneath his frizzy fur and looking between the naïve demolitionist and the impatient clansman. "Ah, Mr. Medarda will be joining us for the event proceedings for funding opportunities. This would impact the Academy tremendously and allow us to expand and even establish remote locations! Think of all the research we could delve into with that support!"

"My hex doesn't just fund anyone and anything, only what I believe is most beneficial to this city's onward prosperity. Judging by Cecil's confidence in you I'm sure that's why you're here, isn't it?" Jago's eyes were much sharper now, as if trying to see right into Ziggs' soul, "That _is_ why you're here, correct? You want to build this city up. Not tear it down, right?"

Ziggs was thankful that keeping his goggles on was a habit; had Jago seen his eyes past those green lenses he would surely have picked up on his shaking pupils. Maybe he would have seen the fear instilled in them or even the yordle standing atop a ruinous Piltover, laughing in the middle of the engulfing flames. What was this power overwhelming him? He told himself over and over to agree with the man. Why, oh why did it feel like such a lie? He was so tall now as if his head were to touch the ceiling. Frozen, all eyes on him, he couldn't move an inch.

_Ding!_ Saved by the bell, the elevators finally opened to unload its passengers.

"Well, look at the time!" Ziggs saluted as he backed away from the ground, "Gotta go prep for that opening show! Hope to see ya there, old man— I mean, old _wise_ man! Yeah, that's what I meant to say! After all, with all that grey hair you've **gotta** be some smart, clever master tactician and hoo, man don't get me started on that robe! I mean, look at that thing! If that doesn't say "Piltover's finest" I dunno what does around this place! Speaking of, great place ya got here! Really lovin' the big, tall everything and—"

The door closed on the rambling yordle and the group was left looking at one another; there was a mixture of disbelief and expectancy of Ziggs' behavior floating around them.

"…hah! Oh, that Zigmund! He may not have all of his bolts securely fastened, however he's a wonderful and completely harmless addition here!" Heimerdinger clapped his hands together.

"I'm sure," Jago responded plainly, turning his heel. The professor promptly followed and his assistant in suit.

"We'll happily have you up on stage with the rest of us, Mr. Medarda!"

"Save that for your own board members. I'll be just fine in the back by the exits. My…uh, these old bones of mine don't take me as far as they used to."

"Of course! I completely comprehend!"

In the elevator, Ziggs' eyes shook, starting to lose his focus again. He knew why he was here. How could just a few words from that man question everything he's done? Of course, he wanted Piltover to thrive. Weren't his actions enough to see that? Then he remembered the explosion. The kidnapped scientists. It was his fault.

"_Keep it cool, Ziggs. People here like you. They love you here! Everyone's happy that you're here! Everyone's happy that you've left your homeland for a predominantly human city! They respect you. They're not mad at you at all. They're not scared. I'm not scared. How could I be scared? I've got enough firepower to send this city into the ground! STOP! Don't think like that! You big idiot! You say a word like that to anyone around here and they'll have you strung up on a raft floating back to Bandle and I don't wanna go back to Bandle! I can't go! They hate me there and I can't go back and face him because I'm a terrible friend and this is all I have to my name now and if I blow this opportunity I'm gonna blow this whole damn city down with it! HAHAHAHAHAHA—"_

"Oof!" he grunted, running head-first into the large, steel door that sent him falling onto his bottom. He shook away every false reality to look at the one around him. No one else was here. Why would they? This was Ziggs' laboratory and even the most danger-loving of scientists feared what might emerge from it. Collecting himself and unlatching the door, he scurried in with one last peek out. With the door shut all the sounds behind it vanished.

Sanctuary. His back slid down the metal and the hymn of science commenced. Sparks from frayed wires flew, the bubbling of questionably volatile liquids in illuminated Erlenmeyer flasks, broken rune pieces suspended in a glass containment of blue essence, and the stray schematics strewn about the tabletops. Light rods hanging from the ceiling casted spotty but efficient brightness down to the dangerous laboratory. It all drew him in and he was more than willing to comply.  
His fingertips traced along the center workbench's edge as he eyed up his latest project; a highly combustible core to fit inside a large casing. It would rival even the strongest of nukes and send nations to their knees…if he could focus. With all his new responsibilities and pro-Piltover projects piling up in his backlog, his own hobby was merely a passing thought.

"You're gonna be my next greatest invention. Runeterra'll **never** see you comin'! I might even be able to stop a war or two with you. Or perhaps start one?" he laughed to himself, "But no time for that just yet! I gotta deal with all your little, colorful cousins!"

Ziggs backed away from it to turn his attention to the tall, metal locker that stretched up the wall. Sure, it was twice his height, but that just meant more space for his odd designs. Swinging the doors open made a brown sack tumble out with its top open, spilling forth innumerable tiny fireworks; the result of tireless nights. They rolled along his feet only to find themselves collected and hoisted over his shoulder.

"No runnin' off now! We've had this thing planned for weeks! The only place you babies are flying off to is a fiery explosion!" he looked between the sack and the unfinished core in the center over and over, deciding to throw the core into the locker and slam it shut before taking his leave, "Yeesh. I gotta stop talking to myself or else people'll think I'm crazy! Naha-haha!"

All around the spacious event room, miniaturized turrets were constructed, test, and properly positioned along the corners and edges. The barrels were aimed upwards to avoid blowing off any unsuspecting heads and kept hidden enough to not cause a stir or spoil the surprise. The mumbles of reassurance made their rounds along the perimeter, giving each their own special assessment. The control stations upstairs overlooking the room's lighting and sound functions but also served as a perfect place to mount even more turrets along the railings. They were facing downward, ready to snipe the next yordle to walk by. Can't have that.

"How's about facing…that a-way? Hm…hit the ceiling and I'll be responsible for another hole in the Academy's walls! But if I adjust it like, _however_… There! Just like that! A little of column A, a little of column B!" Ziggs spoke to himself, anxious to see the fruits of his labor.

The new height allotted him a panoramic view of the large room, echoes of yordles and humans alike, practicing their speeches at the podium, chatting idly between seats. No sign of the older man he met at the elevators, though. Perhaps it was for the better.

"Ooooh, I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they're surrounded in colorful _hexplosives!_" he giggled to himself, wanting to paint a smile on each and every one of their faces. The ceremony would start in just a few minutes, "Oh! And just in time! This room is gonna be packed!" But just as he was on his way to slide down the railing of the steps, he stopped himself, "Hmm, maybe I'll watch 'em come in from up here. Might as well see if I can find any _familiar faces_ amongst the crowd!"

And so, he did from the safety of the event room's control station, resting his elbows along the metal. Soon enough, one by one the election board members took their seats at the stage, Heimerdinger himself included. Following them, led by other staff members, was the touring group itself; a mass of yordles varying in color and size moving in unison. They invaded the room, occupying row after row of seats. Ziggs' eyes darted around the crowd, hastily scanning the sea of weaving heads until everyone had found their seats.

He sighed in disappointment, "Not a single one that I know… You gotta be kidding me! Sure, sure, I kept to myself later on in Bandle but I knew some folks!" Leaning forward over the ledge guards, he narrowed his vision to scan up and down each and every row, desperate for even the shallowest of acquaintances. "C'mon, c'mon, c'moooon…"

It seemed hopeless to look for anyone anymore. Had his friends forgotten about him? Or were they not interested in his practice? Perhaps they were just jealous of him, making the big time here in the city of progress. Ziggs' brainstorm of possibilities was put to an abrupt end, however, when he looked upon one yordle in specific. He rubbed his goggles as if they were his own eyes to see if it was just a mistake. Even with the smudges and dust gone, he remained. Row eight, three seats in the center. It was him. It was unbelievably, unquestionably, undeniably him.

"Rumble…" Ziggs whispered to himself, "It's him. It's him! I'd recognize that silly mohawk and funny-lookin' ears any day! I can't believe it! He's actually in Piltover! All on his own! What's he even doing here!? He hates this place! Woo, this is so awesome! Look at 'im!"

Sights locked on him, watching his every move, he could tell he wasn't the happiest to sit in the middle of what felt like enemy territory. His head was rested in his hand and elbow on the armrest. Listening to his rival speak in his own domain wasn't on Rumble's top thirteen activities he'd like to take part in, however his intentions were elsewhere.

"I've gotta give him a show… Oh! I gotta give 'em **all** a show!" Ziggs rushed behind the control board with clawed hands above the buttons and knobs. Some controlled the sound, some the lights. Perfect. He unstrapped the remote on his waist that would activate the turrets to unload their rounds. He had everything he needed. Heimerdinger's voice could be heard from the speakers inside.

"Now that I've got plenty of more reasons to really **wow** the crowd, I've just gotta wait for my cue." He listened in as Heimerdinger introduced the Academy more times than he could count, the various board members, and even try his hand at some witty jokes.

"…humbly invite you to this year's Yordle Academy of Science and Progress Touring Vent!" Heimerdinger announced. A loud applause followed and faded, "I would like to thank all of the staff members who made this endeavor possible and extend my gratitude to those of you here today! On behalf…" he continued. Ziggs tapped his foot in impatience, aware of how Heimerdinger can go off on tangents. All he needed was that one sentence and the room would be his, "…a special presentation for you all to commemorate this wonderous day! I welcome you all…to the Yordle Academy of Science…and **Progress!**"

"Bingo," Ziggs grinned, sliding the lighting knobs down with his fingers and watching the room slowly dim until it was left in almost complete darkness. The change brought about gasps and shrieks of surprise from the attendees. Unaware of this part, Heimerdinger, along with the rest of the members on-stage, looked up in confusion and concern; could the vent have gone awry already? Even near the entrance doors, Jago kept his skeptic gaze across his surroundings; yordles were an unruly bunch.

With the crowd in a haze, Ziggs depressed the "TALK-BACK" button and brought his mouth near the microphone. "Are you ready…" he began, his voice booming from all directions, "…for a _hexplosive_ experience!?"

Rumble's head shot up, "That voice…"

With his piece said, he raised his remote up and mashed on the greenest button he could find. All at once, the room filled with lights and music. The ground turrets launched their firecrackers into the air with explosions from every side of the color spectrum. Sparklers outlined the walkway between the blocks of seats, making the yordles next to them both flinch in surprise and laugh in delight. Then came the upper turrets to send down their streams, spiraling just over their heads and leaving behind colorful trails and spherical blazes. Everyone darted their eyes around the room, unsure of whether to look at the bright green explosions to the left or the blaring flashes of pink to the right.

Ziggs took this opportunity to make his final move. He rushed down the row of mounted turrets fulfilling their purposes and approached the mother of all firecrackers, "The Finale" as he lovingly named it. A single rocket larger than he with a hissing fuse that creeped up to its base. It would be the last to launch, however, it served an even greater purpose now. Hoisting himself atop it, he used his arms and legs to grip it tightly with a smile of anticipation; this was going to be a blast.

"Let's ride, baby! YEEE-HAAA!"

As the fuse reached its end, The Finale launched into the ground. Screams and holler were heard as the couple nearly nosedived into the seats. Veering to the side in the nick of time, Ziggs' audible laughter spun around them, his bouts of laughter whizzing by them. Heimerdinger leaned forward to keep up with them.

"Is that…? It can't possibly be! Actually, it's quite likely…" he said to himself away from the microphone. It was behavior not unlike the yordle's, he had to admit.

"_Ziggs is gonna kill himself trying to impress these idiots!"_ Rumble thought. He had to admit, this felt like Ziggs' handiwork and it brought him back to a much simpler time. Though, it only caused him to hate the predicament he was in now. If Ziggs was going to make it out of this alive, he'd be sure to give him a stern talking to.

After one final round, the rocket led itself down the walkway between the blocks of seating and ascended straight into the air. Ziggs waited for the precise moment before releasing his grip and jumping off the body, leaping away from the massive burst of colors and glitter that spelled out the large word "WECLOME!" over their heads. The audience stared in awe as he landed almost gracefully atop the podium, raising his arms into the air for one final pose.

A moment of huffing and puffing from him and the audience roared in contentment, nearly everyone standing to give a heavy applause and cheering. He kept his pose, basking in the glory and approval he oh-so yearned for. Lowering his arms, he bowed several times at the cheering audience and their praise continued even as the lights returned. Rumble looked at everyone standing around him, sinking into his seat and giving his own half-hearted clap.

"_What am I even doing here?"_ he asked himself, _"He loves it here…he's just one of them now. Unless…"_

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you…_very much!_" Ziggs shouted back at the growth. Startled by him at first, Heimerdinger smirked in pride to both Ziggs and himself; he was impressed by his performance as it served to remind him that his invitation for Ziggs' hire was another one of his genius ideas.

He moved his head and microphone to look past the yordle and speak to the rest, "And might I introduce our very own Dean of Demolitions! Many of you may know him as the one and only…Zigmund!"

With the seats taken once again and the hailing hiked down, Ziggs took the floor into his own hands, snatching the microphone away from Heimerdinger and leaning in.

"Ain't it so nice to have home so close to work? Hope you all enjoyed my little show! I know I sure did!" Ziggs laughed aloud. "Now that you're all _riled up_ and everything after this point will be boring and inferior…please, enjoy the rest of the tour! I'll be making _special_ preparations in my lab for when you come around! See ya on the third floor, my yordle brethren!"

A walk of victory between the seats as he waved to the crowd, with a high-five here and a point of recognition there. Rumble didn't want to make himself obvious and tried to keep his attention towards the front, yet his sight couldn't help but wander towards Ziggs. In a brief moment, their eyes met. No words to say, no motions to make, just time stopping for that mere second. He looked away and Ziggs continued down only with a heavier heart this time. He caught a glimpse of that old man with the cane again, passing each other as one entered and the other exited. Ziggs looked behind him as the door opened with the sound of Heimerdinger continuing the opening ceremony and closed to conceal the human; he must have missed his performance.

Heimerdinger's words were falling on deaf ears now as Rumble tethered himself between chasing after Ziggs or accepting defeat before even trying. It would have been much easier for him to do the latter, assured by the other's excitement that he was content just where he was. That wasn't something Rumble wanted to accept, however, and he shook himself out of his seat. Sidestepping out of the row, he tried his hand at discreteness as he made his way down towards the far doors that he saw Ziggs leave out of.

Closer and closer, they expanded in his view until something cut him off with a powerful pound: a cane. His eyes trailed up it to see a much taller, much older human blocking his path. Humans were so far from Rumble's radar he hadn't noticed him until he got in the way. He was looking down on him and not just because of their height difference, Rumble was sure about that.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Jago asked, half expecting an intelligent answer, "You're going to miss your group assignment with your little friends, aren't you?" He went as far to nudge the bottom of his cane against Rumble's body, "Go on. Scurry back to your seat."

Retaliatory as always, Rumble had enough of this and shoved the cane away from him, "Ngh! And you're gonna miss your exhibit at the museum! What's it to you, old geezer?" Marching past him, he swatted his robe away from his path, continuing past the doors, "Fuck outta my way."

A piercing glare later and his visage was concealed behind the door once more. The Academy was large and intimidating, Rumble had to admit, but he made it this far and nothing would disappoint him more than succumbing to the towering pressures around him. No, he wouldn't be brought to his knees, not here, not now. Once he shook away the reminder of how far from home he was, he could recall Ziggs' words. Third floor, he said. Time to find a way up.

Meanwhile, Ziggs was going through his own motions of uncertainty as he scrambled about to make his laboratory look something along the lines of presentable.

"C'mon, buddy…why are ya doin' this to me, huh?" he spoke to himself under his breath, arms full of schematic scrolls, "Just showing up like that outta nowhere!? Who does he think he is!?" Stuffing the papers haphazardly into a free drawer, he closed it with much less fervor, "…he's your best friend, that's who. Why else would he be here? …ah, bolts. Now what am I supposed to do!? I wasn't ready for this yet!"

There were many things Ziggs could not wrap his head around: the causation of blue essence's natural flow through runes and crystals, why Teemo always kept his eyes closed, and now, why he wished Rumble could be anywhere else but here. Had he truly lost touch with him that much? He should have been ecstatic that he could finally see him again, yet the more he recalled their last meeting at the docks outside Bandle City the more distress he put himself under. Who knew what lashing Rumble would give him for never coming back? Would he still even call him a friend? Did he bring his battle suit with him? Would he rampage through Piltover until Ziggs was forced to face him? Would he call him a talentless hack and a tool? Would he—

_Thump._ Ziggs' head snapped towards the open doorway. No one was there. He was clammy from nervousness and now his senses were going haywire. Grumbling, he snatched up more and more incoherent pieces and trash from the floor to toss away or store.

"And now I'm hearing things…again! Gyah! Just play it cool or somethin'! Be yourself! Be anyone but this!" He pounded his hands against his head, frustration building a heavy weight on his chest that made him breathe faster. If he had poked his head out to check, he would have noticed the blue yordle doing the same.

Rumble kept his back against the wall, looking towards the open, metal door and breath through his nose as quietly as he could. Though, with Ziggs making enough noise on his own, he needn't tip toe around. There was a part of Rumble that wanted to take in everything Ziggs had accomplished on his side; making it big in Piltover, a Dean in the Academy, his own private laboratory. The other part of him wanted to disregard it all, never feeling that any of those accomplishments spoke Ziggs' name. The yordle he grew alongside never needed the approval of anyone, only a field big enough to leave in ruin with his experiments. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

This was it, a moment of truth for Rumble. He could either confront the only reason he sailed so far from his homeland or leave broken promises shattered in the dust. Tristana told him it wouldn't come easy, but a hotheaded Rumble committed to his beliefs. This was Ziggs, his childhood, lifelong comrade.

"_Act natural,"_ he kept reciting to himself, _"Just act like it's a regular day at the garage. It's noon. Ziggs is barging in. He's laughing. We're joking. And I…"_

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Who's that!?" Ziggs said in a startle, not bothering to turn around amid his arms full of broken runes and crumpled schematics, "I'm a little busy here so no time for chit-chat! And close my door behind you, will ya!?"

"_Ahem!_ This is your superior, _Heimerdinger_, coming to inform you that I'm the biggest tool in Piltover! Hooray for science!" an exaggerated voice responded.

Those tones. That unforgettable mockery. Caught red-handed he looked up, returning anything he had in his arms back to the ground as they fell limp. His ears were attentive and reluctantly turned his head, now face-to-face to his visitor.

"…Rumble…" was the only word Ziggs could find to utter.

With a light-hearted sneer, Rumble stepped in slowly, "A thousand miles away…and you're still terrible at this game," When Ziggs wouldn't respond, Rumble crossed his arms, "What? Forgot how this works already? I found you. That means it's my turn to hide. So, close your eyes and count to—"

"RUMBLE!" Ziggs burst out, rushing down the other with a tight embrace. It was enough to make Rumble freeze in place, eyes wide beyond his assailant's shoulder. He'd been imagining this moment in his head yet failed to plan out any sort of fitting reaction. Control seemed to elude him as the closeness and warmth instinctively brought his hesitant arms around the other with soft pats.

Though, Ziggs was much more enthusiastic about it, "Woo! This is awesome! I can't believe it! You're here! All by yourself!" He released Rumble to flail his arms and pace in front of him, "How'd ya do it!? When did you leave!? How was the boat ride!? Did ya get lost!? Where's Trist!? Why did ya come here!? What's up with—"

A swift punch across his face silenced him in an instant. He rubbed the site of impact, that fist still clenched with its fuming owner.

"Over a year, Ziggs… Over a **goddamn year!**" Rumble shouted, gritting his teeth.

Now he was scared, his form shivering as he cowered away slowly. His hands were shaking, defensively in front of his hunched posture. "N-now, now…let's talk about this, buddy. I didn't mean to… Please… I mean, I couldn't… You wouldn't want to have… What I'm tryin' to say is… I guess…I mean… I just…"

Rumble curbed his violent demeanor; it wasn't in his plans to see Ziggs like this and he could tell the other was fearing this moment. His ears dropped back down with his shoulders as regret set in. "Ah, sorry. I'm just a little—" Rumble took a deep breath, "Listen, to answer your questions, this wasn't easy, okay? I heard about the whole 'Bandle going to Piltover' thing and I didn't give two shits about it. But…after a little convincing from you-know-who, I ended up getting a ticket myself and, well, here I am."

"G-good ol' Trist!" Ziggs identified immediately, trying to return to his chipper self, "You two finally hitting it off yet?" he crossed his arms with a smirk.

"Hitting it off!? Ah, jeez, not this again," Rumble rubbed behind his neck, "I don't think she's even into me like that. Pretty sure Teemo's already got that base covered."

"Well, she was hangin' around you, right? That's basically almost second base!"

"She was only doing that because I was—" Rumble stopped, _"Sad and alone…"_ he thought to himself. It sounded pathetic to him and the longer he took to finish, the more Ziggs knew what words caught his tongue.

"Buddy, I—"

"Just…don't sweat it, okay?" Rumble looked around him, up at the ceiling and over at the schematics along the tables, "So, this is your new base of operations, huh?"

"Oh! Yeah! Take a gander!" Ziggs spread his arms out, an evident sense of pride, "I'm the Dean of Demolitions here! That means I oversee _all_ the things that go **boom** in this place! Which are usually from me. Does that mean I'm overseeing myself?" he pondered.

"This is you making the big time, then? I guess this is everything you wanted, huh?" Walking around, Rumble took in the feel of where Ziggs had been all this time. This place, it reeked of accomplishment, of self-satisfaction, of reverence, of humans. He wanted to smash it to bits.

"I guess you could say that! Not that I've been able to get any new projects out the door yet."

"Why's that?" Rumble asked next to the shelf of eerie chemicals.

"Guess I'm still adjusting to the whole 'big city' thing!" Ziggs laughed.

"Yeah, no. Try again, Ziggs."

"Okay, okay! I've just been _so busy_ with…the tour! Yeah!"

"_One_ last chance."

"Will ya stop asking about it already!? I'm just busy, okay!?"

Rumble had to chuckle at that. Pressing Ziggs' buttons had become far too easy for him, "Hah! Some tour this is."

"I _was_ tryin' to spruce up the place."

"Why? Your lab always used to be this messy. Might as well show them who you really are."

"But I want them to see me as the tidy, genius, and handsome yordle I am! Not like this!"

"So, you're going to lie to all these people?"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Ziggs barked back. Boop. Another button pushed.

"Oh, nothing. While you're at it you might as well tell them that your goggles are surgically attached to your eyes, that you're actually a sane, level-headed yordle, and that you've actually gotten laid before!" Rumble laughed to himself but not after Ziggs put him in a headlock from behind with a Mohawk-destroying noogie.

"Ya got jokes now, huh?" Ziggs seethed through his teeth. His short fuse personality was something of a trademark to him and bringing this side of him out was Rumble's own way of making up for the years of teasing he endured.

"Alright! Alright! I give!" Rumble surrendered, pulling himself out of Ziggs' grip and straightening up his hairdo. "How this sound? I'll help you fix this place up before the group comes by and then we'll catch up later. Sound good?"

"_You_ wanna help _me here!?_" Ziggs found it almost uncharacteristic for his friend to offer his assistance in a place like this. He wanted to question his intentions, however, there was no time for that; the clock was ticking. "Can't say no to that! Here!" Rumble found himself suddenly catching a broom and dustpan in his hands, "Takes these definitely-not-stolen-from-environmental-services things and start over there!"

"Yeesh, you don't waste any time, do you?" he rolled his eyes, sweeping up whatever general area the other pointed at. While the other rushed around the room, haphazardly throwing balls of papers and stray papers behind him, Rumble's dustpan caught gathering dust, dirt, and scrap parts. All this looking down he hadn't noticed the short bin filled with small, red spheres. They were smaller than golf balls but larger than grapes.

"Say, aren't these—" Rumble inquired, bending down to get a closer look.

"Cherry bombs? You bet! I still make 'em in my spare time. Can ya believe it!?"

"I mean, you've never _not_ been making them every chance you got."

"They're still as harmless as ever! I promise! They'll tickle ya at most!" Ziggs took a handful from the bin, "Catch!"

Tossing them at Rumble, his first reaction was to cross his arms in protection. Yet, the only sensations he felt were the unimpressive strings of small detonations along his forearms, inspecting them afterwards, "That's it? No flesh-eating reactions? No reality-warping implosions?"

"I'm a chemist, buddy, not a sorcerer. But how cool would that be!?"

"We'd all be dead, that's how _cool_ that'd be!"

"Aw, you gotta learn how to have fun, buddy! Here, try some out for yourse—" _Crack! Pop! Snap!_ Rumble's assault had already begun as they flung his way, "Ack! Hey!"

"Say, you're right. These _are_ fun!"

"Oh, so it's a war you want, eh?" Ziggs smirked at Rumble's contest. Swiftly, he grabbed another handful and tumbled for cover behind the island workbench as Rumble made the opposite side his base.

"You won't win, scoundrel!" Rumble called in a pirate-esque demeanor, lobbing some cherry bombs over.

"Oh yeah!? Wanna bet!?" Ziggs responded with his own aerial raid.

The two took turns peeking from their sides and launching their artillery at one another. Just like their childhood into their adult years; never a dull day to be had and nothing Ziggs couldn't make a game out of. This was the Ziggs he remembered, thankful that some of it was preserved despite his new residence. Their ammunition dwindled, and Rumble wished that these moments wouldn't end sometimes, that Ziggs would just hop on the next ship back and return to their roots. Wishes, however, are not always granted.

"**AHEM,"** a voice abruptly shoved itself into the heated battle.

"Wow, Rumble! You're gettin' pretty good at your Heimy impressions!" Ziggs giggled.

"Uhh…that wasn't me, Ziggs."

Concerned, the two yordles stood up and faced the doorway. Caught in the act and their faces were just as guilty.

"I suspected as much," Heimerdinger stated condescendingly, stepping in, "Your early departure from the opening debriefing made your obvious intentions all too simple…Rumble."

"Heimerdinger…" Rumble said his name with teeth bared, their rivalry of ideology and practice evident by just the air around them. He threw the remainder of his cherry bombs on the ground and glared. Their eyes were deadlocked, staring one another down and circling as if two fighters in a ring. All at once, Ziggs could feel the tension in the room skyrocket.

"And to what do I owe this most unpleasant visit, hm? Finally come to your senses in regard to your inferior technology? Paying a visit for some legitimate inspiration?"

"As if," Rumble scoffed, "I just decided to stop by and count how many footprints I could find on your head. Y'know, after being stepped on by every higher-up in Piltover."

"Is that jealousy I detect? Envious that I will forever exceed you in any measurable parameter?"

"You're right. I guess you will always have a dumb, mutated head twice the size of mine! You're gonna end up with back problems when you're older, y'know?"

"The only problem I'm going to end up with is your continued presence here! The mere fact that you have entered the Academy is enough to disgust any scientist! And you have the mettles to go about sneaking around this establishment knowing full well that you are not welcome?"

"Your goons weren't exactly that hard to get through. You think some old man with a cane is gonna stop me?"

Heimerdinger's eyes widened in fear, "Old man with a cane? A _human_, old man with a cane?

"Yup."

"A _human_, old man with a cane and monocle!?"

"Uh-huh."

"A _human_, old man with a cane, monocle, and silver hair!?"

"Ah, jeez. You hear this guy?" Rumble looked over his shoulders at Ziggs, who shared his own expression of shock, "Always sucking up to these long legs, I swear. _White_ hair, yeah. What's the big deal, anyway?"

"Ooooh, this is severe! This is grave! Awful! Horrific! …dire!" Heimerdinger pulled at his own hair, only further frustrated that Rumble's mere presence would spell the end for yordlekind in Piltover, "You must leave! Immediately! Posthaste, I demand!"

Rumble only crossed his arms when Heimerdinger pointed towards the doorway, "What's wrong? Afraid you won't look so hot around the _humans?_You're everything I knew you were! Just a big suck up! A sellout!"

"You know not the powers you're senselessly accosting! You are directly ruining **everything** for approximately **everyone** and I will see to it your immediate ejection from my institution!"

He could tell he struck a nerve with Heimerdinger when he roughly grasped the sleeve of his shirt and tugged him towards the exit. Rumble growled as broke away from it, "Get the hell off me! Ziggs! Are you seeing this!?" But when he looked for support from his friend, all he got was twiddling fingers on an unmoving statue of nervousness, "…Ziggs?"

"Uh, actually, Rumble. There _are_ a couple of big-wigs scoutin' around the Academy today. It won't be for long! You can just…wait outside until it's all over! How's that sound? Promise when it's all over I can show ya around the city!" Ziggs tried to reassure.

Rumble wasn't having it, though. He looked disgusted and confused as the last thing he wanted to hear from the only reason for his departure from Bandle was to get out.

"Not you too, Ziggs…" with a suck of his teeth, he shook his head and stomped right out, "Whatever. I'm outta here."

It was quiet and tense. Heimerdinger watched Rumble leave, turning his attention back to Ziggs, "And you," he began. Ziggs' ears drooped, preparing himself for the inevitable scolding, "You should know better than to bring someone like him to a place like this."

"But, I didn't—"

"If you care about your position and title here then I suggest you think more thoroughly about your actions before committing to them. Do you comprehend, Zigmund?"

"_Yes, Heimy…_" Ziggs knew there was no persuading him. His rivalry with Rumble was too bitter to remedy and he was not in the position to challenge Heimerdinger's words. He owed too much to the veteran inventor and kept his thoughts in the back of his head.

"Gee! I sure feel lost out here! If only _someone_ could guide me before I wander off again!" Rumble shouted in sarcasm from beyond the wall.

Heimerdinger growled and stomped out of the lab and past the equally disgruntled Rumble.

"I swear your personality better suits a child."

"I think your head's having one right now! We need a medic! Stat!"

Heimerdinger balled his hands into fists, withholding his anger the best he could, "Follow me," he growled out, gesturing Rumble to stay behind him.

The two walked in an unsettling silence, the distant voices of touring groups making their rounds of intrigue while Rumble was busy imitating Heimerdinger's usual walk cycle he witnessed on the Fields of Justice; bringing his head back and swaying from one side to the other. Heimerdinger, as if he had eyes behind his head, snapped back to look at him, though he was all but guilty-looking now. They continued walking.

"Out of curiosity, I must ask you Rumble: why _did_ you decide to accompany the other yordles on this trip? It is most unlike you to willingly step into Piltover let alone the Academy itself given your views on humanity."

"I'm just here to check on Ziggs. Make sure you guys aren't drilling Anti-Bandle-hypno-devices in him."

"Oh, I almost forgot about your…colorful imagination. Zigmund arrived on his own accord, anyhow. You and I both know that."

"You just lured him in with your stupid promises of success and money!"

"Oh? Is his title as Dean of Demolitions in a prestigious institution not success for someone like him?" Rumble kept silent, "You know him far better than I. You of all yordles should know just what Ziggs would have wanted."

He didn't want to admit it, but he had a point; if Ziggs was craving anything it was acceptance after the many years he spent alone in the abandoned Industrial District making it a wasteland of experimentation. He talked of moving up in the world, making a name for himself, wanting to be more than the image people made of him. Rumble feared where his ambitions might have led him and, considering where he was now, he was begrudgingly correct.

_"Yeah…but not like this,"_ he thought to himself as he looked over the bridge that peered down to the main floor. That's when he noticed the familiar robe, "Oh. There's that guy again."

Hurriedly, Heimerdinger ran back and almost threw himself over the railing. Blood-red robe, white hair, classy monocle and all.

"Confound it all, my fears have been realized!" Heimerdinger slapped his forehead.

"What's the big deal, anyway? Shouldn't he be on his way back to some old age home?"

"Need I repeat myself all day!? That man down there is Jago Medarda! Leader of the Medarda merchant clan and an immensely powerful man across all Piltover! With as much influence as he has, it is imperative that we have his full support going forward as a growing establishment of science…" his words were falling on deaf ears as Rumble now feigned slumber with his head slouching forward and an obnoxious snore, "…and exploration. Oh, why do I even bother?"

"You're everything I knew you turned out to be. Just a big suck-up to all the humans in suits here! I bet they know Bandle inside and out now like it's _their_ business!"

"Quite the broken record, you are. I uphold my integrity and have proven myself as capable as any human here! I've achieved something you could only wish to!"

"Yeah, right! If I had my battle suit here, you'd be toast just like the rest of these goons!"

"Your empty threats fall on uncaring ears, Rumble. You know where you are, the predicament that you're in, and the consequences of your actions. Thus, your next course of action is to immediately leave the premise! Your attempts at displaying yourself as a proud yordle will end up dooming yordlekind instead!"

Rumble crossed his arms, filled to the brim with irrational comebacks and aggressive snaps. While he could entertain his ego all day, his eyes brought him back to Jago who kept busy speaking between his female assistant and other yordles. If Heimerdinger wanted to appear as a unified race in front of Jago, he'd do anything to make that happen.

"…and what will you look like shoving me out the door, huh?"

"Elaborate."

"If you wanna get this guy to like yordles enough to support this dumb place, it wouldn't look so good pushing one of your own out. What'll he think then? Can't toss money at a place that's not getting along with itself."

"Bah! Don't try to associate yourself with the Academy now. However, you may have a point. I'll have to eject you through the garbage chute."

"Yeah, do that and I'll make sure everything in that chute is on the old man's clothes."

"Are you that incapable of compromise!?"

"Let me stay and I'll promise to stay as far away as possible from that guy for the rest of the tour. How's that for _compromising?_"

Heimerdinger looked with a scratch of his chin, assessing his options and possible outcomes. When he decided to look back at Rumble, he immediately regretted it as the blue yordle exaggerated a sad face with his bottom lip puffed out and sorrowful eyes.

"_Pwease_ may I stay at your **shitty** establishment, _Mr. Dinger, sir?_"

He pinched between his eyes and groaned, "Ugh, **fine!** _Fine._ Zigmund's effect on you must be quite potent if you wish to stay in a place like this. But if I catch you so much as looking that man's way, you're out!"

"As if I wanted to from the start."

Heimerdinger looked around until he found a small group of yordles led by another on their way to the next workshop, "You'll be joining Touring Group B for the remainder of your stay."

"Does the 'B' stand for 'Boring'?" Rumble retorted.

"The 'B' stands for 'Brilliant-Individuals-Guiding-a-Feeble-Minded-Fool-Through-Exuberant-Inventions'!"

Rumble rolled his eyes, walking to the ground as he held his hands in his pockets, "You don't have to ruin _everything_, y'know."

"Follow them around the designated areas and nothing else! They are currently on their way to witness the production of light rods! Maybe you'll learn a thing or two!" Heimerdinger called.

"_Great._ Can't wait 'til we tour the exit."

Presentation after presentation, Rumble endured. Moving along with his group and pretending to be interested in the happenings around the Academy began to wear him down. Neurosciences, Biomedical Engineering, Hextech Fun Facts, and even the "Build-Your-Own Mercury Cannon-Hammer" stations became nothing more than mere bumps in the road for Rumble. On top of that, keeping a lookout for that old man kept him occupied.

Ziggs' presentation was the only spark of excitement Rumble could get. He brought the group around the laboratory, which, to Rumble's surprise, looked much cleaner and shinier than when he was kicked out. The cherry bombs were nowhere to be found, but that was most likely for the better. Showing off his previous models of hexplosives and even demonstrating the testing procedures to determine their volatility kept the group on their toes. For laughs, Ziggs would even explain his day-to-day schedule whilst juggling a few bombs. It pleased Rumble to know Ziggs was happy doing what he loved; he achieved his dream and nothing would have made him more proud. And yet, another part of Rumble's heart ached. It seemed both obvious and mystifying. Was he happy for his friend's achievement? Or was he disappointed in his position?

The Astrology department at the apex of the Academy was their last stop before the groups would reassemble at the exit, where the presenters and staff would wave goodbye to all the aspiring scientists. However, where Rumble's group decided to take the elevator, he opted for the empty stairwell. Where they stopped at the first floor, Rumble stopped at the third. And where they all gathered for one final speech, Rumble did not. He forced himself to lug around the small bag of meaningless souvenirs thrown at him.

"_I've gotta talk him out of this,"_ Rumble recited to himself, _"I've gotta bring him back home."_

Back at the lab, he peeked in. Looking left, looking right: no sign of Ziggs. He must have just missed him considering the rather open state it was left in. He should have left the Academy by now, he should be leaving with all the others back to Bandle. His mind told him this was wrong, that this was all a waste of time not worth risking everything Ziggs worked so hard for. And that man. What if he caught him again? He'd at least give himself some privacy.

Rumble closed the door behind him and let curiosity get the better of him. Trespassing into Ziggs' workspace was something he was used to and nothing felt more appropriate than to rummage through his friend's paraphernalia. He placed his bag onto the island workbench and stepped around it. The quietness accentuated the subtle sounds of the working laboratory and the scattered nature of everything was too characteristic of him. Bins of scrap parts, flash powder, fuses, and other miscellaneous tools filled buckets and drawers. Schematics hung on the walls and prototypes lied dormant on the tabletops.

This wasn't what he wanted, this wasn't where he belonged. He wanted to curse everyone that convinced him to come here, to integrate with these humans. Bandle City wasn't a book Rumble wanted to keep open for these people, yet here Ziggs was handing over all their secrets.

A shelf held a spare replica of Ziggs' goggles in case his would melt near his own experiments. He just couldn't help himself but to put in on his head and smile in the mirror, trying to imitate one of Ziggs' many laughs, "Man, how can he wear these all the time?"

Suddenly, his ear twitched. Footsteps, approaching fast. Rumble threw the goggles off and adrenaline burned through him. He shouldn't be here, either. Would Ziggs get mad at him staying? What if someone was with him? What if he's with Heimerdinger? Caught between his better judgement and self-afflicted consequences, his mind only thought one thing: hide.

He looked towards the tall locker against the wall near the door. Parting the metal doors, he jumped in and closed them. The locker was much taller than himself, yet deep enough to fit him even if uncomfortably. It was dark, cold, and unknown objects were poking his sides. He could see through the slivers of line running across his face. The lab door opened.

"Say, thanks! I didn't even know you could launch a yordle that far! Ehehe!" Ziggs shouted and waved to someone as he walked in and closed the door behind him. That persona he kept smiling and beaming shed away as he let out a long, drawn-out sigh, "Well, that was fun. I guess."

Rumble trailed what he could see of Ziggs through the narrow slits. His breaths were very audible to him, so he tried to breathe slower and deeper.

"They're all gone. Didn't even see Rumble there. Guess he really did hightail it outta here. Can't blame him. He doesn't wanna be here. Heck, neither do—" Ziggs mumbled, catching himself before he could finish that with a shake of his head.

He was listening to him through the door, helpless and trapped. He just wanted to jump out and make Ziggs laugh again. The thought of his unwanted presence in the Academy, however, kept him docile.

Ziggs continued to talk to himself as he jumped onto a stool by a cluttered countertop, "He sailed all the way from home to see me…and for what? All he did was argue with Heimy, see a bunch of stuff he probably doesn't care about, and leave."

"_Well, he's not wrong,"_ Rumble agreed.

"Rumble's never been away from home like that! …and I just let him go. If I could just see him one more time…maybe…" he opened a drawer beside him, lifting a small stack of flat squares. Rumble couldn't make them out, "…maybe I could have apologized to him right. Maybe he could have stuck around for a little bit, show him around the city. Maybe I'd actually be able to focus instead of being so—"

He froze; there were so many changes that he didn't want to accept, that he forced himself to fight through. It was back to the daily grind for him. Stowing the photos away, he slapped and pulled his cheeks for inspiration.

"Grrr! No more of this! That's it! Nu-uh! No way! No how! Back to work, me!" he rubbed his face and hopped off the stool, looking around, "Now where did I leave that prototype core at? Hmm… Huh? What's this doin' here?"

The stray bag of souvenirs sunk Rumble's heart and sent him into a heated sweat, _"Shit! Shit! Shit! I forgot about my bag!"_

"Hmph, I don't remember this bein' here when I left," Ziggs scratched his chin, rummaging through it, "Must have been left by one of the tourists. Say, check this out!" he held a miniature replica of a notable hammer, "Look at that! Wittle, itty, bitty Mercury Hammer toy! That settles it! Finders keepers!"

He set the bag aside and began to survey his workspace, the course of the day briefly eluding him from his personal endeavors. If he were to ever take his mind off Rumble's brief visit, he'd need to get back to work, fast.

"Ah! Probably on the shelves! Hmm…nope. Workbench cabinets? …nada. IT'S UP IN THE CEILING! AAHH! …wait. False alarm. C'mon, think!" he pounded his head, walking from one spot to another. Soon, his scattered brain reached clarity, "Aha! That's right!"

Eye wide, pupils like tiny dots, the sweat beaded off Rumble's fur as he looked down by his foot. The core sat there waiting for Ziggs. He had to think quick or he was sure to get caught. His foot began to nudge it out.

"The lock—" Before Ziggs could face its way, the core dropped and rolled out along the floor, away from the metal doors, "—er?"

Curious, he thought, that it would suddenly move on its own. Perhaps a result of its unfinished nature. Nevertheless, he picked it up and inspected around its imperfectly spherical shape. Then he stopped his eyes at the locker and Rumble felt that he was staring directly at him. Was he too obvious? Surely Ziggs would suspect something. He was bound to approach the doors and swing them open any second now to—

"Woo! Thanks, locker! Wow, what a swell guy," Ziggs held it with a smile of reassurance.

Guess not. Rumble huffed as quietly as he could, trying to ease his shaky nerves. Business appeared to resume as usual for the demolitionist as he took the prototype away. He had to ask himself, though, how long would he stay cramped inside this tight, confining, uncomfortable, musty…dusty…sniffle-inducing…sinus-tickling…

"ACHOO!" Rumble sneezed, shaking the doors.

Ears at full attention, Ziggs faced the locker in another startle. Now something was fishy. In his feeble attempt to silence himself, Rumble slapped his palms over his mouth and nose. But it was too late; the other abandoned his core to step cautiously toward the metal storage.

"_He definitely heard that! I'm screwed!"_ Rumble yelled to himself.

He knew not what lurked inside and it took for him to muster all his bravery to wrap his fingers around the handles. Their hearts pounding, he tightened his grip and…

* * *

…_swung the noisy doors open. The young, blue yordle was quick to rummage through the dirty pile of discarded parts. After all, it was his 7th birthday today and he deserved something special. Something that would make him feel proud, triumphant. Something that resembled a head. All these pipes, springs, and scrap metal in the way wouldn't do._

"_Aha!" he smiled, kicking his feet as he threw his arms down into the trash. He fished a stained, rubber kickball out and held it up. It even still had some air in it, too. Whoever tossed this out was surely missing out. It was his stuff now._

_He hopped out with his dusty shoes crunching against the dirt and sometimes clanging against the metal sheets. All his._

_The two figures were all but complete, comprised of wooden poles, torn up shirts and electrical tape holding up the rackets-for-limbs. He shook the grime off the red marker and made two circles, two dots, a frown and slanted eyebrows. It looked just like them. Atop the bucket, he balanced the head on the shoulders and looked back at his results. He'd show them what for._

_Then it was up the steep hill. He used the stems of discarded handlebars and the jutting, wooden plants to climb up. Higher and higher to the dilapidated top, he would have been afraid of heights had he not liked what he saw. Standing on the summit, the lesser hills of junk and debris reached high and spread far. It was an endless world of mysteries and exploration. His kingdom._

_He stood at the edge, the two figures at the base of the mound had to look up at their captor. After all, he had the high ground now._

"_Well, well, well!" Rumble crossed his arms with a cocky grin, "Look who stumbled into __**my**__ territory! You guys think it's so funny to hurt me! Well, not so tough now, huh?"_

_They pleaded for their release. They wanted to leave. They were helpless and scared, but Rumble showed them no quarter._

"_What's that?" he leaned an ear over, "You wanna leave? Hah! Not today, fart-faces! Time for my revenge!"_

_Rumble approached the rusty engine teetering on the edge. Any more of a push and it'd tumble straight down into them. That's exactly what he had in mind as he put forth what little strength he could muster up to push it over._

"_Right…about…now…! Ngh…! Almost…there…" he struggled until the engine finally succumbed to gravity. It threw him onto his bottom, and he turned to look at how his deadly trap worked out. Tumbling down, it banged and crashed against everything in its path until it barreled right through one of the bullies, his body a mangled mess now. Victory was his._

_With a cheer, he followed the same path down until he stood over the mess with a hearty laugh, "How's it feel, loser? Dork! Wimp!" he blew a raspberry at the mess before turning to the other, unscathed one. That wouldn't do. "What're __**you**__ lookin' at, dweeb?"_

_A kick to his base sent the rest of him toppling down and his rubber-ball-head to roll from his shoulders. He kicked that one away, too, but it bounced off a car door and landed right by his feet. That hostile look in his hands now as he picked it up. Rumble stared at the face he'd become accustomed to seeing. He couldn't seem to get rid of it. He was triumphant. He was the greatest. He was pathetic._

_The young yordle's victory was short-lived; he knew the reality of it all. That none of this was real. That he'd never have the courage to face them. Hell, he was sure they'd find a way to hurt him here if they knew about this place._

_The junkyard. It was all he had. This was his sanctum, his sanctuary, his reliable refuge. As he walked through it, the cold smell of metal and stagnant silence, he wondered about many things. Growing up, he was never acquainted with many other yordles and he couldn't consider anyone a friend. His loneliness and size made him an easy target to anyone larger than him: everyone. He was alright._

_He didn't need anyone, anyway. They clearly didn't need him, either. All he needed was himself; the only person he knew wouldn't hurt him. Himself and the junkyard. He was free here, left to his own agenda and imagination. None of them would understand. None of them knew where he was. None of them missed him. He thought he was alright._

_The skies were growing darker. He thought about a world without him. He thought about everyone that knew his name. What if he just disappeared without a trace? Stopped breathing and lied in the dirt? Would they cry if he died? Would they even remember his face? He wasn't alright._

_His eyes were watery now. Not this again. His hands gripped the mean face even tighter until he threw it as far as he could. It was pointless now; the tears were running down his cheeks and he felt lost again. So, he did the only thing he could do for himself: he cried. Sitting under a broken, upside down bench, he cried and cried. He was confused, angry, sad, alone. This learned helplessness wasn't something he was used to quite yet. Maybe one day the pain will subside into something more manageable. Maybe one day the pain will end. For now, it was just him, his tears, and the wrenching in his chest. No one would dare come to this place. No one._

_Clink! Clank! His eyes opened, uncurling himself. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there for. He wiped them off with his forearm and headed towards the sound. Who else could have known about this place? Could it be one of them? He had to investigate._

_Peeking out from beside a pile of scrap, Rumble saw another pile, rustling and haphazardly shedding off its pieces. There was something inside. Was it someone looking for him? Someone or something? Was it a monster? He wasn't finished constructing his Super Atomic Mega Laser so he couldn't fight it. And just when he thought the worst, a head poked out of it all. It was another yordle._

_He threw off the rest of the trash on his body and jumped out. A pair of stained, blue overalls and red undershirt. His fur was a tannish color with an odd pair of green goggles strapped around his head. Weren't those meant for swimming? He'd seen him somewhere prior but couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe at school? And what was he holding in his hands? It appeared to be a brake drum. Wait a moment…that was __**his**__ stuff! How dare he!_

_The tan yordle just walked away, though, as if everything here was his business. Where was he going? He was used to seeing trucks come and dump more junk into the piles, but not another explorer. His curiosity led him to pursue._

_He was light on his feet as careful measures were taken to conceal himself. Around the bends and paths, he followed, watching the other's every move. He climbed around as if he'd known the ins and outs of this place already. How was that possible? Had he been here before? Rumble didn't want to approach or call out to him. After all, he could easily be someone wanting to hurt him; he was larger than him, after all._

_When they finally stopped, Rumble had climbed to the high ground and watched as the unknown yordle brought the brake drum over a mess of pipes, cogs, plates and plastic cups. Was that supposed to be a spaceship? How shoddy. It all looked wrong to Rumble. He could teach him how to make a better one. He seemed proud of his work, anyway, a bright smile across his face as he inspected it. He shot off sounds of pretend missile launchers, cannons, and laughter. He was having fun just as Rumble did here, but he was a trespasser and he didn't take too kindly to that. If he just reinforced the bottom with some tape and drilled some holes for screws, maybe it would stay together better. Rumble's mind trailed off as he tried to look at it closer and closer until…_

_Clink! Clank! A rusty, worn wrench fell from his hiding spot, loud and revealing. It didn't take long for the tan yordle to find the source as his eyes followed the trail the wrench took. Lifting the goggles from over his eyes, he met another's. They were the color of topaz, wide like saucers, and filled with fear. He hadn't noticed the blue yordle before, though a hint of familiarity was there. Curious, he stepped closer._

_Anxiety set in and Rumble knew not what to do with himself as the other approached the base of his trash hill. His mind could only tell him the one thing he was good at it seemed: run. And so, he did, stumbling to pick himself up and darting down the other side of the hill._

"_Hey! Wait!" the tan yordle called, snapping his goggles back on and giving chase. While Rumble tumbled down to the surface, the other ran around it. He could see the smaller one sprinting off anywhere he could to get away from him. What was his problem? He had to make sure that he wasn't going to take his stuff, too._

_They ran and ran, the wind sweeping past their fur and hearts pounding. Rumble looked back and, much to his dismay, the other yordle wouldn't let up. He tried all the shortcuts he could remember, under the arc of the crane arm, bouncing off mattress springs, through the plastic mesh forest, none of it stopped him. He didn't want to get beat up, not here, not now, not when he was at his lowest._

_Again and again their paths tried to cross. Just when the tan yordle thought he was about to corner the other, there was no one there. One head popped out of a wide pipe, the other would peek from another. An unintentional game of Hide and Seek that quickly turned into Tag You're It once Rumble found the opportunity to run through the clearings. He was starting to run out of breath, his chest weighted with exhaustion and anxiousness._

_He found a weight-bearing rod in the side of a tall mound, forcing it out as the rest of it avalanched behind him. Cut off, the goggled yordle grimaced in frustration, looking for another way around it. Now was Rumble's chance. He could think of only one more place to run: his secret hideout. Hidden within a large pile of scrapped aircraft parts was the intact fuselage of a Screaming Yipsnakes plane. There were two paths into the empty space: a wide pipe at the top could drop you into it or a burrowed tunnel from the bottom led to an oven door exit. While it was easier to fall in, he was in a hurry; he'd have to climb the tunnel in._

_So, he did just that, looking around before throwing the door open and crawling in. Dark and pointy, he grasped onto everything he could to lift himself up. Higher and higher until he felt the cold metal of the empty hull. There was just enough room sit up and crawl around with a lone, battery-powered lantern at his end. He turned the dial on it, illuminating the tight space. He was safe now. All was quiet and that yordle would eventually give up looking for him. He breathed a sigh of relief._

_Unfortunately, that sigh was taken right back in with a gasp as he heard the pipe entrance reverberate on the other end. Soon, the sound stopped and the tan yordle fell bottom-first right in front of him. Unbelievable, he thought._

"_How did you…!?" Rumble hugged his lantern._

"_There you are! Sheesh! Why're you running!?" he asked, taking off his goggles again._

"_Who are you!? What do you want!?"_

"_My name's Zigmund! But everyone just calls me Ziggs. This is my hideout you're in!"_

"You're _hideout!? I found this place first!"_

"_Nu-uh! I did! And who are you, huh!?"_

"_What does it matter? Just get the heck out of here and leave me alone!"_

"_Why were you running? I'm not gonna hurt you, ya idiot!"_

"_Yeah, that's what they all say before you start pushing me around."_

_Pushing. Shoving. A group of yordles surrounding another, much smaller one. Then he remembered, "Wait a sec… You're not the guy that always leaves really early?" Rumble stayed quiet, "You're gonna get in trouble, y'know?"_

"_Who cares? Beats having to deal with all the bullies after school."_

"_Why don't you just run away from them? You're pretty good at that?"_

_Another moment of silence and Rumble had enough, he took the handle of his lantern and descended back down the tunnel._

"_Now where are ya going!? Hey!" Ziggs called out before trailing him again. He followed him all the way back to the entrance arch of the junkyard, stomp for stomp, berating him with questions, "You're in the lesser classes, right? What district are ya from? Does your fur just stick up like that between your ears every day?"_

"_I told you to leave me alone!"_

"_What's your big problem!? …Rumble!" Ziggs shouted at him. That made him stop dead in his tracks. Full of surprises, this one was, "They talk about you. At least, someone that sounds like you. I guess you're him, right? You're Rumble?"_

_The skies were even darker now and the lamplight was just about all he had. That, and this yordle he couldn't get rid of. He knew this was just one big scheme to garner his trust before leading him off, stabbing him in the back, and pummeling him with the rest of them. He wouldn't be made a fool again._

_Rumble looked back at Ziggs and pointed to the open gates, "Go away. This is my place! My hideout! You're not supposed to be here! Nobody is!"_

"_Stop being mean! Maybe that's why no one likes you!" Ziggs stepped closer, grabbing the base of the lantern, "You think everything is yours, but it's not!"_

"_Get off! That's mine, too! You're stealing it!" Rumble retaliated, tugging back from the handle._

"_No, it's not!"_

"_Yes, it is!"_

_The fought over their territory, testing the device's durability between them until the boom and flash of thunder and lightning awoke the skies. With a shriek, Rumble fell to his bottom, now placid under the roaring clouds that trickled down rain. Ziggs looked up, feeling the drops flick against his ears and fur more and more._

_He loved this. The loud, explosive sounds of thunder as if they angered a god and the bright lightning as if trying to smite them. It was all so magical to him despite all Yordleland's oddities. And while he smiled at it all, the other yordle had the opposite reaction. By the time he looked at Rumble again, he had already cowered under the shade of an aluminum halfpipe._

_He hated this. As if the dangers of school weren't hard enough, the risk of being struck and killed by lightning always played on his paranoia. He never felt safe in this weather and he made sure to either stay home or in his hideout until the rain stopped. Now he was out in the open and wishing he were anywhere else. His soft whimpers would turn into loud yelps with each crackle in the sky._

_Ziggs looked past the gates, at the shaky Rumble, at the lantern in his hand, and at himself. It didn't sit well with him to leave the other like this. Sure, he didn't want him around in the first place, but Ziggs knew he was too stubborn to ask for help. And so, he walked over and took Rumble's hand into his. He was immediately met with that same resistance._

"_G-get off! Go away!" Rumble yelled at him. It proved ineffective, however, as he soon found himself pulled right off the ground with more force than he could ever fight against. His tears betwixt the rain on his cheeks, he looked up at Ziggs who snapped the goggles back over his eyes. Unsure of what to say or do, Rumble followed along as he was led away from the Junkyard, the lantern their guiding light._

_Along the dirt path, the pebbles crunched. Under the canopy of the forest, the wet leaves kicked up. Over the fences, the wood creaked. Through the fields, the mud sloshed. All the while, hand in hand. Rumble couldn't understand why Ziggs was doing this; he never wanted to believe someone was trustworthy, not after the repercussions of doing so. They didn't utter a word to each other with only the sound of rainfall filling the void._

_The hut in Kindlegrain District, east of the Trotenscar Ridge. That's the direction Rumble gave Ziggs the moment he realized his intentions. A thanks was in order, though, he didn't have time for that when they stopped by his postage bin._

"_Rumble! Rumble get in here!" a woman called from the doorway. Ziggs assumed it was his mother. Letting go of his hand, Rumble ran up to her, "Where have you been!? You're soaked!"_

"_Sorry," Rumble's ears drooped with the rest of his dripping fur._

"_Get inside and hop into the tub with your brothers, now," she nudged him along, yet he could get his eyes off Ziggs who watched him from the fence._

"_But what about Ziggs?" he asked._

_Looking out, she could see the lonely lamplight behind the heavy rain. She had enough children to attend to, "He can find his own way home. Come on."_

_With one last nudge, the door clicked shut. Though weighted by the water soaking into his clothes and the smell of dirt and grease around him, a sense of accomplishment was enough to make the trip worthwhile. His lantern's light was fading in and out. He'd have to get home quickly._

_One last look at the hut and Ziggs walked away. He should have been concerned about getting lost, catching a cold, or anything else along the way. Instead, his mind only wondered if he would see that yordle again. Maybe he'd see him around school. Maybe he'd see him around the junkyard again. Maybe._

"Rumble…" _he thought, _"…that's kind of a cool name."


	3. Looking up at the Summit

**Aria of Isolation**

**Chapter 2: Looking Up at the Summit**

"Ah…you found…_me?_" Rumble smiled sheepishly, an innocent wave back. With a loud scream, Ziggs slammed the doors shut, bracing his back against them. The touring groups were gone, yet Rumble was still here. This wasn't good in the least bit, he thought.

"What're you still doin' here?" he interrogated frantically, stumbling over to confirm the laboratory door was still locked.

"Ziggs, we barely got to see each other. I wasn't gonna just let Afro-For-Brains think he can boss me around so the _poor, wittle long-legs_ don't get upset."

"You're not supposed to be here, though! You're supposed to be on your way back to Bandle by now! What happened to just waiting outside for me so we could catch up later?" Ziggs bit at the fingertips of his gloves nervously as all at once he felt his job and reputation at risk, "Aw, man… Aw, jeez…"

"I am—" Rumble kicked the doors open and dusted himself off, "—**not** going back out into that big ass city!"

"Why not? You're gonna get me trouble!"

"Because it's…big and stupid!"

"Damn it! Damn it! I can't lose my job because you're too scared of Piltover." Frantically, Ziggs opened and closed various cabinets along the side workbenches.

"I'm not scared! It's just…stuffy and full of long-legs."

"They're called humans, Rumble."

"Who cares? They're not the reason I came here - you are!" Ziggs ran past him to throw more doors opens, "And would you stop running around!? I need to talk to you!"

"Where is it? _Where is it?_"

"Are you even paying attention to me!?"

"Aha! Found it! Here!" Whipping it out, Ziggs held the open the large, brown sack towards the other, "Hop in!"

With incredulous eyes, Rumble looked between them before snatching the bag away, "Are you serious right now? You're just gonna try and toss me out like Heimerdipshit did?"

"But…but you're not supposed to be here—"

"**I know!** I know I'm not supposed to be here. But I've been needing to talk to you."

"Then what the hell do ya want!?" Ziggs shouted, "Look, I'm sorry! Okay? I'm sorry! …I'm sorry…for leaving. I'm sorry for never coming back. And…and if you're here to beat the stuffin' outta me then…just get it over with. Just…please, don't get me in trouble."

Heimerdinger's words rang in Rumble's head. Like a wrench in the works, he stopped. He knew he was at the heart of his visit; the question his entire trip depended on. When it finally came to the tip of his tongue, it sprang back into his throat, forcing him to swallow it down. Tristana warned him about what may happen. So, he gathered his thoughts and courage, taking a tight hold of Ziggs' wrist.

"I'm taking you back to Bandle!"

"What?"

**Knock! Knock! Knock!** Pounding against the heavy door raised their ears in a startle.

"Uh oh…" Ziggs muttered.

"Zigmund! Unlock this door post-haste! Me and my assistant have an exorbitant amount to discuss with you!" A familiar voice shouted from the other side: Heimerdinger's.

"Not now, not now," He looked back at Rumble, putting a finger to his mouth and pushing him back into the locker with a rough whisper, "You are **so** lucky there's 4 inches of metal between us or he might have heard you! Now shh!"

Returning Rumble to his hiding place, Ziggs frantically searched the drawers for the electronic combination lock he'd almost forgotten about. Clicking it into place, he brushed himself off as if he would look any different. Carefully, he unlocked the laboratory door, just a sliver, and brought only his smiling mouth into view.

"Sup?"

"I believe it would be more appropriate for us to talk _inside_, Dean of Demolitions."

"…now?"

"Yes, now."

"…right now?"

"Affirmative, right now."

"…I can't."

"Oh? Why's this?"

"…_I'm naked?_"

"And _why_ would you be naked inside your laboratory?"

"…_science?_"

"Open this door, Zigmund!"

"Okay! Alright!"

Begrudgingly invited in, Heimerdinger and his assistant peered around with skepticism. Ziggs had forgotten how much Gustaav followed the other and had a hard time keeping an eye on him as he jotted down notes onto his clipboard.

"Zigmund, do you know the reasoning in regards to my arrival here?" he kept his hands behind his back.

Ziggs shifted his attention between the two as much as he could divide it, "I…can't say I do, Heimy," his laughter betrayed anxiousness. Was he going to scold him for having Rumble here earlier? Did he already assume Rumble was still around? Did it have to do with Rumble at all?

"It's because…" Ziggs braced himself, "…I've come to congratulate you on your superior performance!" Heimerdinger cheered.

Opening an eye up, he expected the full brunt of the professor's rage dowsed over him, "You…did? I mean, of course you did! Who wouldn't? That was, like, over a week's worth of making the rockets alone."

"You most certainly made that abundantly clear, my protégé. At one point, I couldn't see past any of those vibrant eruptions!" Heimerdinger's arms flailed about, "I cannot begin to inform you of both the participants' _and_ the staff's overall approval of your firework arrangement coupled with the exceptional presentation of your laboratory. You're proving yourself quite worthy of your title!"

"D'aww, c'mon, Heimy. You're gonna make me blush!" he slapped his palms onto his cheeks.

Knots tied together in Rumble's stomach, the pretentious voice echoing throughout the locker, _"Damn it, Ziggs. Why do you have to look up to someone like him? Ugh, I can't wait 'til this is over,"_ Through the slits of light, he could see an olive yordle looking back at him, _"…the hell does this kid want?"_

"And your surprise performance in the opening ceremony was most delightful. Throwing caution to the wind and journeying on your final hexplosive around the room was just impeccable!" Heimerdinger flared his hands for emphasis.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Heimy," Ziggs inched his way over to Gustaav, taking him into a playful hold under his arm and sanding down his bobbing tuft of fur on his forehead, "Of course, I don't mind ya layin' it on thick. Right, Gus? You liked them sparkly sparkles?" Ziggs giggled.

"Ah! Oh! O-of course! It was, uhm, spectacular."

"Louder!"

Gustaav clenched his eyes shut, "It was super-duper amazing and stuff!"

"There ya go," Ziggs cooed.

"Stop coercing my assistant, would you? He's very busy."

"Bein' nosy?" Ziggs let the rattled assistant retreat back to Heimerdinger's side.

"He's—" Heimerdinger thought for a moment, "—taking inventory, aren't you?"

Looking between the two, Gustaav hid his mouth behind his clipboard and nodded. Ziggs crossed his arms, "Of the entire Academy?"

"I stated that he was busy, did I not?"

"Very," Ziggs squinted.

"Returning to our previous matter of business, your attention to detail and overall performance should hopefully serve as a precursor to your bright future here."

"You know I aim to please, Heimy!"

"Quite. Now, we must be off to make my rounds with the rest of the departments. Gustaav," he called. The tension eased with every step they took to the door, "I'll let you get back to your assigned work, Dean of Demolitions. And, please, do make progress. Your backlog is gaining length rapidly."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get right on that, boss-man!" Ziggs was nearly pushing the pair out now and couldn't wait to slam the door shut behind them. He would have, too, had it not been for one last interjection from Heimerdinger.

"Oh, and one more thing, Zigmund," he looked through the nearly closed doorway.

"The Code Red in the Hexelectrical Engineering Department yesterday was **not** my fault, I swear."

"Not that. Just a quick observation… Rumble must have been in quite a hurry to leave after the tour, I must say," a bead of sweat ran along Ziggs' brow, "I didn't even see him leave with the others."

"Yeah…he…_really_ hates this place. I bet he's outside cursin' up a storm right now!"

"A shame, really. I wouldn't want any of that outlandish behavior to become a representative example of the Academy, don't you agree?"

"Don't worry. I'll, uh…" he eased the final inches closed, "…give him a nice talkin' to."

_Click._

After holding it in, Ziggs finally blew a held breath out, "Close one…"

"Yeah, can't wait for you to go outside and give that Rumble guy a stern talkin' to," Rumble's muffled voice answered in disdain.

"Or I could just keep him where he is and head on home."

He scoffed, "Home's a long way from here."

Rolling his eyes, Ziggs made his way over to fiddle with the lock. He could vaguely recollect the code, though the initial tour of his workspace was a hazy memory drowned out by the overexcitement of his new job. A tense air hovered between them, Rumble's demand still lingering.

"…Rumble, I can't just go back to Bandle."

"I figured you would say that. Guess I should have listened to her."

"Trist?"

"Yeah. She told me it would be a stupid question to ask. But, hey, don't know until you try."

He spun the dial around aimlessly, "Listen, buddy, I love Bandle. I really do! But I can't just abandon the Academy because you feel like having me around again."

"You could have at least come back to visit."

"A lot of stuff happened when I came over here. There was the presentation, I blew a hole in a wall, had to save kidnapped scientists in Zaun, became Dean of Demolitions, it was a whole stinkin' ordeal. Trust me, it's hard to explain."

"Oh wow, you're a hero in this city, too? _Great._"

"_Not_ exactly. Besides, by then, it was too late."

"Too late for what?" Ziggs didn't answer that, jumbled codes rattling around his brain, "Well, you could have at least written something back. Anything!"

"Why would I? So I could read a letter about how much you hated me!?"

"I didn't **hate** you!" the doors rattled with Rumble's fists, "I just—!"

"_Thought you were a complete and utter traitor,"_ his mind finished.

"That's what I thought. Now lemmie get this stupid thing open."

With each attempt came the faint beeping and flashing red light in the corner. It kept telling him to try again and again. Was it a birthday? Another important date? The molecular weight of magnesium? The beeping continued.

"Tsk. Stupid thing."

"…everyone misses you," Rumble tried, "They want you back home."

"Oh yeah? Who? Nobody wants a weapon like me back there again." _Beep beep!_ "Try again…" Ziggs muttered, frustrated.

"Tristana sure does."

"Tristana was completely on-board with me leaving, so I doubt that."

"Teemo does, too."

"Teems couldn't care less, I know that for sure." _Beep beep! _"Try again."

"The Mayor! He even thinks you'll do better at home."

"He wanted me out the most!" _Beep beep!_ "Damn it, try again!"

"Everyone in town really wants to see you again! Everyone in the city wants you back!"

_Beep beep!_

Ziggs slammed his fist against the lock, "Try again!"

"**I want you back!" **Rumble shouted through the doors.

His ears rose up, remembering. That's right. Rumble. Ziggs punched in his best friend's birthday. The lock sounded off a happier tone this time.

_Beep beep beep! Whirrr. Clink!_ Ziggs clutched the lock and chucked it aside, dragging the doors open. A part of Rumble wished he didn't, however, as his solemness complimented his slouch. His blank eyes peered down at nothing.

"Rumble…buddy, I dunno how many times I can tell ya this, but…I'm sorry. It's just that—"

"You don't have to say it. I know. Heimerdinger was right. Look at this place. This is…everything you ever wanted. I'm just being a selfish prick," he stepped out, not bothering with the dust strewn on him, "No sneaking around this time. I'm out of here for real now. I'll let you get back to your life here…and I'll get back to mine."

Rumble made his way to the lab door, Ziggs' heart sunk deeper and deeper into regret with each step. There was something else that would end up leaving through that doorway and it wasn't just Rumble. Whatever it was, he couldn't let it go.

"Wait!" Ziggs shouted.

Rumble looked over his shoulder, less than an arm's reach from the handle, "What?"

That was a good question. It was a gut reaction, really. Something took him over and demanded Rumble stay. He couldn't tell if it was the fear of loneliness returning or the fear of reprimand from Heimerdinger. So, he scrambled around in his head for something, anything to keep Rumble on Ziggs' side of the door.

"You can't go. Because…" Ziggs started.

"All Heimer wants to see is me walking out the front door and that's exactly what he'll get, so don't worry about that. Now just let me—"

"I need you!"

Rumble blinked, then blinked again, unsure of what to respond with.

"…here! I need you here!" He was improvising now, struggling for a reason "To help me…_with_…_stuff_…" then he saw the list on the wall, stumbling over to rip it off, "…on this list! Right here!"

"You want me to stay…to help you with more chores?" Rumble crossed his arms.

"They're not just any chores, buddy. They're super-duper-important deadlines I gotta meet for projects I haven't gotten to yet!

"Let me see that," he snatched the paper from Ziggs, racing his eyes over it, "…Ziggs, most of these dates have already passed. Like, a while ago. And this one's coming up! Are you kidding me? You're no different than how you used to be in school!"

"See? I haven't changed one bit! Now, doesn't that just make ya happy?" Ziggs smiled, trapping Rumble in his own words.

"W-well, I mean, _I guess?_ But you should at least be doing _something_ with all this new tech you have."

"Yeah, well, ya can't teach an old dog new tricks! …no, wait. Ya can't…give an old dog…a new laboratory… Ya can't genetically engineer a new dog from an old—"

"…I get it, Ziggs. Look, even if I did agree to help you around here, despite how soundproof your lab may be, how am I supposed to leave and come back with you? Because this stuff isn't just an all-nighter, y'know? And where the heck am I supposed to sleep, anyway?"

Ziggs hummed to himself in thought, scratching his chin. Scenarios played out in short scenes: Rumble hiding at each instance of visitors, snoring in a sleeping bag on the floor overnight; sneaking him through the ventilation system; tossing him out a window; slapping on a fake mustache; switching clothes. Ziggs grinned, ears perking up as an ingenious idea took form.

"That's it!"

"What's it?"

"The perfect way to get ya in and out of this joint!"

"_Here_ we go," Rumble sighed, knowing full well that a perfect plan to Ziggs didn't necessarily mean a logical one.

"Don't sit down, buddy, because I'll just kick that seat right out from under ya!" Rumble cocked an eyebrow. "I'm gonna shove you…into…**a bomb**! Ehehe!" Ziggs' arms shot up with a beaming smile, waiting for his shower of praise.

Instead, Rumble lifted his head up, aloud, "Alright, Heimer! I'm ready to go!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, wait, wait, wait, wait!" his arms flailed about, "It's a fake bomb! It's not real! It's gonna be hollow on the inside. It'll just **look** like a real bomb from the outside but it won't be a real bomb because it's fake and fake things aren't real!"

"Are you kidding? What're you gonna do? Roll me around like a snowball till I barf?"

"Nonsense! I'll make it flat on the bottom. Pft, duh."

"Don't 'Pft, duh' me! How does that change anything?"

"When I put it on the platform cart, silly."

"What platform cart!?"

"Okay, let me go over this again. We're gonna make the framework and outer shell of a big bomb that everyone's already used to seeing me with. **But**, instead of it being a real bomb, it'll be all hollow on the inside with enough room to jam ya in. _Then_, I'm gonna wheel it around in one of the equipment carts they got lying around here and just say that it's a…extracurricular project of mine. No one'll notice a thing!"

"Wait, _we're_ going to make it?" Rumble squinted.

"Well, yeah! I mean, I can do it myself, sure, but with _you_ here, we'll get it done in no time!" Ziggs brought an arm behind Rumble's shoulders to pull him in close, "It'll be just like the old days, buddy!"

For a moment, the floor wouldn't let go of Rumble's feet as his cheek pressed against Ziggs' chest, accentuating his meager height. There was the touch, the flicker, the small spark that was just enough to warm his face. He nudged away from it before he could make sense of it.

"You…really want to keep me here, don't you?" he asked.

Ziggs rubbed his hands together, as if nervous to admit it —his wide and sheepish smile gave it away, "It's been awhile, buddy…and I dunno when another chance like this is gonna happen. I won't keep ya here forever! Just…enough time for us to catch up, yeah? So…whaddaya say?"

What _would_ he say? An extended vacation in Piltover wasn't on Rumble's list of expectations before boarding the ship, and he was more than reluctant to give this city his time and effort. However, leaving now would guarantee another year of regrets and loneliness. Taking Ziggs with him was out of the realm of possibility; he'd have to settle for the second best.

"This is such a dumb, stupid, crazy mess of an idea from you…" Rumble shook his head, "I'm in."

"Yes! Haha! This is gonna be awesome!" Ziggs cheered, already fishing out a blank scroll to lay out in front of them, "Once we get the basic structure down, it'll just be fetching the materials and putting them together. Easy!"

"How are we gonna fit this thing in your car, anyways?"

Ziggs kept a quizzical smile on, "What car?"

"They…_did_ give you some sort of vehicle here, didn't they? This place's freaking huge —how do you get anywhere?"

"Just the good ol' one foot in front of the other!"

Rumble's palms smacked his disgruntled face. Doomed, he thought.

* * *

Down the corridor, Heimerdinger and Gustaav waited for the elevators.

"And then _I_ said 'Isolated strains of Hypervirulent Campylobacter? I hardly know her!'" Heimerdinger laughed heartily at his own joke while Gustaav forced his own.

"Ah…haha. Yes, that's very funny, sir," he assured, feeling a piece of himself dying inside.

"See, Gustaav? We have fun here. You'll come to acquaint yourself further in this establishment in due time. Now, humorous remarks aside, I must inquire about your observations inside Zigmund's laboratory."

Gustaav nearly jumped in his olive fur. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stifle his nervous stammering, "U-uhm…well…you see…"

"Gustaav, this is a very simple question. Did you see Rumble in there?"

Did he? Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. He couldn't tell. Now he couldn't remember. His world was spinning now, caught in a tug of war between his mental insecurities. His paranoia shouted that Rumble was everywhere, his doubtfulness told him Rumble never existed, his anxiety whispered to him to shush, and his impulsivity pushed him to blurt out the first thing on his mind. Through it all, he managed to utter something sensible from his roots.

"…nothing to report, sir! Not a single hair from him."

There was a moment of silence —not for disbelief, but for the discontent in the way Gustaav said it. Heimerdinger hummed his uneasiness, but shrugged.

"I'll take your word as true, then. It seems Rumble is no longer present inside the Academy. After all, we've revisited every floor, department, and classroom. Perhaps my paranoia is encapsulating my sense of reason."

_Ding!_

"Professor, if I may, w-why is Rumble so important to you? Or, rather, the lack of him so important to you?" Gustaav asked hesitantly as the elevator opened to allow them in.

"Just speaking of him fills me with unbridled rage. However, I suppose context breeds confluence. You see, Rumble harbors extremely elevated levels of contempt for the city-state of Piltover and all it resembles, especially the human race as a whole. There are many reasons for this. The first is, very obviously, his comparatively smaller stature to humans."

"Isn't that all of us compared to humans, sir?"

"Genetically defective, he is. The average yordle is rarely as small as he when matured. As such, he holds much pride in his work and looks down on humans. Figuratively, of course. Rumble believes himself to stand far ahead of me in technological prowess. However, his practices and methodology are all wrong!"

"I guess he _is _pretty short now that you mention it."

"While it was my intention to see his efforts put to use here under my leadership, he declined rather vehemently. Since then, he has been nothing but an unruly nuisance in his misguided attempted to show the world how to respect yordles. For these reasons, having someone as potentially destructive and disrespectful here bodes all but well for the Academy. And during such a crucial time, he is even less welcome to ruin our chances of our institutions's growth."

"You think he'll…make a fuss?"

"Make a fuss? He'll ruin everything!" Heimerdinger's anger brimmed as he latched his hands onto his assistant's shoulders, shaking him more than already was, "Do you understand the ramifications should that rebel still walk these grounds!?"

"N-n-not completely, professor!"

"If Jago sees the Academy showing even a single modicum of support for someone as disrespectful as Rumble, then he won't support **us!** And no support means no trust from the clans, and no trust from the clans means no respect for yordlekind here!"

_Ding!_

"And no respect for yordles here means no—"

"Cecil," a blunt voice spoke in the now parted doorway.

The two yordles shrieked, holding one another as the tall, red robe stood ominously over them.

"AH—! …Jago!" Heimerdinger collected himself after parting from his assistant who now shivered behind him.

"I was just looking for you."

"I- I hope you've enjoyed your fill of the Academy, yes?"

Stoic were his motions, face unamused as his steps turned away from them, "For the time being."

The two quickly caught up to the lumbering steps, his words not settling quite right for Heimerdinger.

"It's no doubt the Hexacyclic Engineering Department must have caught your eye, hm? Or perhaps the Neuroscience Department's presentation may have sparked your intrigue? It wouldn't be surprising if our superior—"

"Superior?" Jago froze, looking down in disgust.

Heimerdinger was quick to change his vocabulary, "—our…_diligent_ Educational Department impressed you with their strict curriculum!"

"Mm. Yes, all of the areas we visited were very amicable displays of effort. You run a good…school here. However, the day is getting old and I must address other business."

"So, we should finalize _our_ business regarding support from the clans then, should we not?"

"No, we should not."

"I-I beg your pardon?" Heimerdinger stumbled.

"I see this Yordle Area of...Something or Other putting its best foot forward. The festivities and presentations have been masterful, of that there is no doubt. However, what of the normal operations? How does it fair when eyes are averted? When you think no one is watching?"

"Well, I…don't see an issue with that! The Yordle Academy of Science and Progress is always under presentable, pristine, and prestigious conditions. So, when would you like to schedule your next survey?"

"No appointment," Jago turned on his heel, making his way to the spacious lobby's doors.

"W-when will you arrive then!?"

"Who knows? Perhaps tomorrow. In a week. In a month. Whenever. Just be ready."

With his voice trailing off alongside the subtle tap of his cane, Gustaav found it easier to come out of hiding. The two found themselves alone in an aura of confusion and bewilderment. Normally, the nervous yordle would have expected the professor to say something intelligent or reasonable, yet, he heard nothing.

"Sir…if I may, Mr. Jago doesn't seem very nice," Gustaav admitted with caution.

A moment passed as Heimerdinger swallowed the truth he dared to hold back, "…I am aware of this. I had thought myself steeled against the various notable human representatives here after my initial impressions from them were proven wrong. The clansmen are much more powerful than I. But I do this for the good of yordlekind. For them, I must continue to exceed human expectations."

"You're a brave yordle, Mr. Heimerdinger. I'm sure everyone else feels the same," Gustaav assured, though it did little for the sorrowful scientist.

"No, my assistant. I'm afraid that there will always be one yordle to vilify me. For that reason, we must make sure he is most certainly not on the premise ever again…permanently!" Heimerdinger stopped to look at his wristwatch, "…starting tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow, sir?" the olive yordle asked, watching the other stride away with poise.

"It's past my hours here and I work for salary. I'm packing up for the day and I suggest you do the same!"

"O-oh…very well, then. Have a good day, sir."

Quietly, Gustaav let out a heavy sigh once Heimerdinger was far enough away, looking up to the tall ceilings that stared back down with its many floors of intimidating innovation. This weight on his heart would tax him, surely.

"I hope you guys work fast…"

* * *

Round and round the pencil raced across the paper, quickly turning it from a blank sheet into a busy schematic of rough designs, informative arrows, and miscellaneous doodles. The structure was simple, spherical, but needed to look convincing enough for someone to feel as if they were really standing next to a life-sized explosive...or at least a yordle-sized one. It took Rumble some time to agree on a sketch (that included a badly-drawn version of him stuffed inside), but when he did, the two quickly went to work.

Metal bars found their way to one another as meticulous hands connected the framework. The curvature ill-matched the flatness of the bottom; it was something Ziggs had to keep reassuring Rumble about. Sheets for the outer shell were melded together as Rumble worked at configuring the hatch door. Like an adamantly rehearsed dance, they assembled it piece by piece as if it was second nature. In fact, it was, and this faux-bomb didn't even come close to their more complex contraptions in the past. It was those years they reminisced about between food breaks: the make-believe play they always did in Bandle's Junkyard and the many contraptions they would aimlessly toy with until sunset. It made them laugh.

The project wasn't considered complete until Ziggs spray painted his signature skull onto the red shell. Now able to admire the fruits of their labor, the two stepped back to look over it one last time.

"I'll call it…'The Rumbler'!" Ziggs said proudly, beholding their creation.

"_Boring_. I was thinking more along the lines of… 'The ZR Super Prototype Combustor X'!" Rumble punching the air, but was met with crickets, "Fine… _The Rumbler_ it is, then."

"I always knew you'd see things my way, buddy," Ziggs looked over at his mounted clock, "And just in time to hightail it outta here."

"You sure this is gonna work? I don't have too much experience, uh, gettin' smuggled in and out of places."

"Of course, it's gonna work! It was my idea, after all. When was the last time one of them **didn't** work?"

"…you want a list or…?"

"Maybe later. Now, hop in!" Ziggs smiled, patting the echoing faux-bomb.

With a huff and a grunt, Rumble sized up the prop and made a leap up to the open hole at the top. Almost. His puny arms did little to pull the rest of his body in as his legs kicked against the shell.

'Ngh… Give me a push, will ya?"

"On it!"

That's when Rumble felt two palms grip his rear, his ears drawn back and eyes wide, "Gah!

Ziggs! The hell are you doing!?"

"Giving you a push! That's what you asked!"

"I wanted you to help me up, not grab my ass!"

"Well, what else did you want me to grab!?"

"Just grab my legs or something, ya idiot!"

"Your words, not mine!"

Losing control of his body, Rumble dove headfirst into the empty bomb, "Hey, wait, wait—! Oof!" The bomb shook with an echoing clang, "…I hate you."

Ziggs' face appeared like a solar eclipse, peeking in to see Rumble groaning and adjusting himself to the tight confines, "So! How is it? Comfy? Roomy? _The apex of yordle ingenuity?_" he twirled the ends of his cheek fur.

"How's about none of the above? This sucks. It's cold, hard, and there's barely enough room to spread my legs."

"Good thing no one else is in there with ya, then!"

Rumble squinted his eyes, "What's that supposed to mea—"

"Great! It's perfect!"

Ziggs slammed the hatch door shut with a giggle, jumping down to close up shop for the day. He opted to keep his prototype core in the lab lest he look a tad too armed on the streets of Piltover. Schematics strewn about, drawers half-open, almost-finished food making crumbs in the corners; looked good enough to him. Leaving all but one hanging light rod on, he took ahold of the platform cart and hastily wheeled it away. It was surprisingly light. That, or Ziggs was surprisingly strong. Rumble felt every bump and rattle in their path—the only sense he had of the known surroundings.

The spacious lobby was nearly empty now, a stark contrast to the day's happenings. A skeptical Ziggs scanned every direction as he strode closer and closer to the Academy's main doors.

"Hm…no sign of Heimy," he muttered under his breath. "Looks like we're in the clear."

"Guess that makes this a big waste of time, eh?"

"Sh! You're a volatile prototype, not a talking bomb."

Out the wide doors and under the setting Sun, Ziggs watched stray yordles and humans walk by the base of the grand steps. Rumble heard subtle noises muffled by the thin metal. Then, his whole world shook, tossing him around and slamming him against every rounded corner of the inner sphere. He couldn't tell if a might _thunk_ was from the faux-bomb against the cart or his head cracking against the metal.

With his hair and head frazzled, he growled and pounded the fake shell, "Are you fucking kidding me? Did you take the steps?"

"Y'know, I completely forgot we had ramps here. Promise I'll use 'em next time!"

"Any more of that and there won't _be_ a next time, ya idiot!"

"It's a good thing people here already think I'm crazy otherwise they might wonder why I'm talkin' to this inanimate object. Woo, watch out! Looney comin' through!"

"You don't _have_ to prove them right, y'know?"

The last shreds of the sunset left its trail of orange and red across the sky as automated street lights flickered on. Each bump of the sidewalk was a jolt of reality for Rumble as he had wished they'd chosen something more dignified. He felt a familiar sense of helplessness that brought him back to his younger years, as if Ziggs was taking him by the hand again.

Once they were far enough away from the Academy, Ziggs felt comfortable letting Rumble out.

"Coast is clear, buddy."

And up the hatch door flew, "Guh! You coulda drilled air holes in there, y'know?" Rumble complained, resting his elbows against outer shell as he hung over. The tall buildings and open air were a stark contrast from Ziggs' lab. It dwarfed the blue yordle more than any human could.

"Well, if I did that, no one would believe me!"

"Ugh, this place makes me sick. Fuckin' gag me."

"Aw, ya get used to it eventually. I've been here a _whole_ year and haven't gotten stepped on not once!"

"Probably because they think you'll blow up on impact."

"Maybe I will. That'd be a neat way to go, if I say so myself."

"I just don't get it. Why would any yordle come to a city like this? Everything's too fucking big for us. Look at this!" Rumble raised his arms up at the infinitely rising towers, "All these buildings and stands are for long-legged, money-grubbing, pieces of shit!"

"You're right, buddy. Only the worst of the worst yordles would ever wanna come here."

That's when Rumble saw the cocky smirk Ziggs threw back at him, looking away in a huff, "Shut up. You know why I'm here."

"To jeopardize my career?"

"No, you idiot! Because—Gah! Nevermind!" Ruble retreated back into the bomb, slamming the hatch door shit in frustrations. But after a moment of silence, his eyes peeked back out, "Sorry."

Ziggs couldn't help but laugh, "We're almost there, anyway. You'll love the yordle-sized stuff comin' up!"

"The last thing I need is pandering, y'know?"

Through the stray insults and rhythmic bumps, around street lamps and uneasy bystanders, they approached the arch ahead. What lied behind it was the semi-gated community of yordle citizens that made up a tiny fraction of Piltover's population. Familiar to Ziggs and conflicting to Rumble, they stopped just before it, raising their heads to keep it in sight.

"Here it is, buddy!" Ziggs introduced a finger pointing up at the metallic lettering.

"'Daintree Cove'? Really? They named it after, like, one of the most commonly known place in Yordleland?"

"There really is no pleasin' ya, huh?"

"And this is where they haul all the yordles into? Can't have them running amuck in the city, I

guess."

"Hey! Could be worse like when Heimy first came here."

"How was it then?"

"Non-existent."

"What?"

"Yup. There really wasn't a place for yordles in Piltover before Heimy showed them what we could do. That's when they built this place to welcome all the new, neato minds from Bandle. And there's more to come!"

"Heimerdinger…is the reason for this?" Rumble grimaced, not wanting to believe his rival was responsible for yordles having even a modicum of respect here.

"You bet! He's the reason just about any yordle comes to Piltover."

"_Great._ You're really doing a shitty job warmin' me up to this place, Ziggs."

"In time, buddy ol' pal, _in time._ Now, to the house of Ziggs! Onward!" he called with a mighty tug, lurching the cart and its contents forward.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Together, the two yordles crossed beneath the arch…

* * *

…and jumped as high as they could to reach the metal above. They thought with enough of a running start they could eventually reach it. Maybe when they got older.

The sound of laughter joined the children's leaps and bounds, spins and twirls as they brought in the new sunset that slowly sunk past the piles of junk. Colorful loops of their imagination began to wind around them, the endless possibilities replacing everything they learned in school that day.

Where was he? Over here? Over there? He would sometimes peek out with his twitchy, little ears before giggling away in a sprint. Rumble was sure to catch him this time. All he had to do was take the shortcut through the tire swings and tackle him from the flank. He'd been working on it for weeks and now, tumbling with Ziggs, it was his turn to count.

He had many soldiers on his side, but Ziggs was crafty. Or cheating. They hummed down at the makeshift chessboard with washers for footmen and bolts for the cavalry. Queen Cog-on-a-Stick was quick to do away with the tyrannical King Spring Pin as he was tossed aside with a wide grin.

"Checkmate!"

"You big cheater! Do-over!" Rumble chased after him, knocking everything and everyone out of their way.

Up and down, up and down, the springs beneath their feet bounced them higher and higher until their heads were as light as the clouds they reached for. Always the daredevil, Ziggs sported his own tricks and spins on the bed. Always the defiant, Rumble topped him with his own handstands.

3…2…1…GO! They released the cars down the steep, disheveled hill, watching them fumble over and nearly break apart by the time they reached the base. Who would win? Whoever it was got bragging rights for Best Inventor of the Year for the rest of the day and Rumble couldn't afford to lose, but it looked like Ziggs was going to brag the whole way home. Then, a marvelous idea sparked between them.

Rumble lifted himself over the rim of the rusty bathtub, snapping his goggles over his eyes and giving Ziggs a smile with a thumbs up. At the helm, the other nodded at they looked over that same steep hill. It was sure to be a bumpy ride, but getting to the moon would be no easy feat.

"All engines are good!" Rumble called over their loud, imaginary revving.

"Wings set to Fly Mode! Ready for takeoff!" Ziggs kicked away the only plank of wood left holding them up.

Slowly they teetered, rocking back and forth until gravity took hold. They screamed in terror and delight as their world whisked by like the wind, every point and pivot shaking the tub violently. This was it; they were going to crash! That is, if it wasn't for the metal sheets and wooden planks lining the ramp at the bottom. Ziggs turned the disconnected wheel to no avail and Rumble held onto the sides tightly. Though it didn't work as intended, the ramp at least slowed their descent enough to smash into innumerable shards. The tub rolled along the ground in such a way that no mother would approve of. Dumping the yordles out, the two gazed up at the orange and pink sky.

And they laughed and laughed and laughed.

The sun was kissing the treetops good night as it dragged its orangey veil with it. Atop the tallest heap of junk did the two tired yordles sit, gazing out at the endless horizon.

"Hey, we should bring in our new invention to class and show everyone. It'll scare the pants off 'em!" Ziggs smiled, contrast to Rumble's sorrowful eyes.

"You can do that. I won't be there," he replied solemnly.

"Are you playing hooky again?"

"Yeah. Forever."

"Huh?"

"I'm not going back to school. What's the point anyway?"

"Your mom and dad will get mad at you, I bet!"

"Beats going to school. All I do is get picked on and kicked around! I don't wanna go back! I

don't wanna!" he slammed his hands down on the hollow metal between his legs that panged with the tears that followed.

"But—"

"Because…" he sniffled, "…because I'm scared."

Ziggs couldn't find the right words to say to his sobbing friend, looking around him as if they were somewhere within reach. One like the other yet treated so differently. But they were scared of him; he could tell. Maybe, just maybe…

"Well, don't be!" Ziggs suddenly shouted.

Rumble wiped his confused eyes dry, "What…?"

"Hey, nobody likes me, either! But they don't touch me. Maybe 'cause they're scared of me. _So_, if I'm around you, they'll be too scared to do anything! It's the perfect plan!"

"You can't just follow me everywhere. Stupid."

"Oh yeah? Watch me! Haha!"

Despite his adolescent mind, Rumble thought it impossible. Yet, a part of him trusted Ziggs to keep his word. So, he tucked his knees in and the tears stopped.

"…hey, Ziggs."

"Yeah?"

"...how long are you gonna follow me around for?"

Ziggs hummed, "I guess as long as you need me around!"

Rumble rolled his eyes, "That could be forever at this rate..."

"Even better!"


	4. Hideaway

**A/N: This chapter can be also be viewed with illustrations and music on AO3!**

* * *

**Aria of Isolation**

**Chapter 3: Hideaway**

"_How?" he asked himself. "These two? Has time truly descended into such chaos that __**this**__ is the vital link that must be preserved?"_

_The course of time betwixt his fingers like delicate thread was all the answer he needed. He could not deny where it led. Its persistent existence was nothing short of a miracle._

"_So be it. Prove to me your worth."_

* * *

The Sun rose again on the patrons of Piltover, on the tips of the towers, and on the tarps over the gadget stands. On the enormous gates that parted for ships and on the tiny birds perched atop them. On the man who rushed to work and on the child who cried of boredom. On the canopy of curvy trees along winding paths and on the windowpanes of the huts housing yordles. On the ones that slumbered peacefully and on the ones that didn't.

"Urgh…thanks for reminding me why we don't sleep in the same bed anymore…" Rumble groaned to himself as a limp arm planted itself onto his exhausted face, "…Ziggs."

Throwing it off, he wondered how long he had left to endure this. Too exhausted and wishing he would open his eyes to Bandle once again, the blue yordle tried his best to drift off. Ziggs was known for his active movements while sleeping, tossing and turning like he was having a nightmare yet resting soundly. Displaced on the only bed available in the home, he defended his reputation, much to Rumble's displeasure.

Just a little while longer, he would think to himself as turned to his side, the sacred five minutes to feel like five hours. It all blurred back to black. That is, until his bedmate rolled over, slung a thick arm over Rumble's scrawny chest, and spooned him like a pillow. He froze, trapped against Ziggs' chest as their legs entangled.

Then came the hot huffs, the sultry snores that tickled his flicking ears and brushed down his neck, the gibberish murmurs spoken straight into his fur. Ziggs' modest belly curved against the small of his back and, if his assumptions were correct, a more noticeable protrusion dragged against his leg. Rumble tried to ignore it and shift away. That proved counterintuitive, however, as each minute movement grazed his rear against the other's lap.

_"Uh oh. This isn't good. Shit, this is gonna get really awkward if this gets any-"_

With each rub, the breaths got more winded and the fidgeting kicked up. Subtle sounds of pleasure muffled into his twitching ear. Ziggs' wandering fingers kneaded Rumble's chest and belly as the mutters devolved into whimpers.

_"-worse! Okay, don't panic. Just lift his arm up...shuffle around a bit...get your leg back. Easy now, easy."_

Following his own directions, Rumble silently maneuvered himself away from the imposing yordle. Ziggs' arm fell flaccid in place as the smaller one rested eased once more.

_"Easy," _he smiled.

Just one minute, he wished. Just a moment of clear, calm, quiet, flattening, bone-crushing sleep.

_"What the hell!? Agh!" _Rumble shouted in his head.

Speaking too soon, the tan yordle rolled himself onto the blue amidst his active imaginings. Smooshed under the weight, Rumble struggled to so much as wiggle around. He could feel every uninvited part of his bedmate with the snoring now front and center in his face. If there was any brutal reminder of their weight difference, it was this.

"_Urk! Damn it, Ziggs! You're…fucking crushing me like this! Gah! Why do you have to be so—"_

Through the rough puffs and soft slides of Ziggs making himself comfortable, it all seemed to end when his fuzzy cheek rested against Rumble's chest. As if his body had finally found the perfect spot after hours of searching, a content sigh reflected his placid slumber with just the slight twitch of his ears. Rumble couldn't look away.

"—_so cute?" _

Ziggs shifted, Rumble's eyes blew wide; there was much more than their torsos rubbing together now, _"Oh no…"_

The radio alarm crackled on with the jolly host, "_Goo-ood morning all you beautiful deco-peop-oh!"_

Rumble flinched, creaking his head towards it, _"Oh no!" _

"_This is FM 989.0 HXTC comin' at ya with a different take on your usual morning with a sensual, romantic spark to light up your passion-fueled fires! Yeow! Let's hit it!"_

"_OH NO!"_

If the radio had pierced the veil of silence, then the smooth saxophone and heartfelt lyrics that followed completely demolished it.

"_Oh, baby! I've been pretty dry as of recent! But when you touch me here! And then you touch me there! …OOOOOOOOOOOH!"_

"_NOOOOOOO!"_

"Mmmm…hm?"

It was the end of the line. Rumble felt helpless to watch Ziggs grimace and groan awake, his protrusion bearing down upon Rumble's own— No! He wouldn't let their time turn awkward, not now! And with the strength of 1000 decently-sized ants, his frail arms and legs managed to hurl the unsuspecting yordle clear off the side of the bed.

"I'M INNOCENT!" he yelled.

"WoooaaaAAHH!" Ziggs tumbled, bowling into the nightstand, the cursed radio bashing against his dazed head, "OOF! Ugh…"

Seizing the moment, Rumble covered his lap with the strewn-about sheets, scooting to the edge of the bed away from Ziggs. Meanwhile, hostile claws worked their way back up the other side with even deadlier eyes.

"And you said **I** was the **rough sleeper?**" he growled.

"Y-yeah! 'Cause ya are!"

Ziggs picked up the now silent radio, "Give me ten good reasons why this shouldn't get shoved down your throat."

"The only thing that got shoved down my throat was your morning breath!"

"What?" Ziggs exclaimed.

"That came out wrong…" Rumble muttered, shaking his head, "Ah…y'know, 'cause you were crushing me with your fat…lard body in your sleep!"

"Hey, I'm not fat! I'm just retaining years of indestructible baby fat is all! See?" Ziggs stood up, only to feel something else much more awake than him along his thigh, "AH!"

Rumble scrunched up, yelling, "What now?"

"Nothing! Nothing! I…I gotta go wash up for work!" Ziggs made a mad rush for the door.

"Then go do that!"

"I am!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"GREAT!" the door slammed shut and all was quiet again. Only when Rumble could hear the muffled sound of running water did he relax.

"Smooth…" he spoke to the ceiling, "Real smooth, Rumble… It's already shitty here. No need to make it worse. Just remember, you're here for a friend."

Friend. For some reason that wasn't sitting well with him_—_ right down to his fluttery stomach. He wanted to blame it on the hunger but there was one thing that disgusted him more; lying to himself. He groaned into a forearm, embarrassed as if there was an audience looking down on him. He wouldn't blame them, though; he looked pathetic.

Meanwhile, in the shower, a frantic Ziggs was dealing with his own dilemma.

"Cold water! Cold water! Get outta here, Lil' Ziggy!" he shrieked as his demands were met. "Ah! Gah, that's freezing! Why would I do this? C'mon, go down already! You're gonna rat me out! You're…"

Led astray by his own thoughts, he'd almost forgotten about the icy water piercing his fur. He stared down between his feet and at the drops panging beside them, reassuring why Rumble was here in the first place. If this is what heartache was then he'd want no more of it; it felt pathetic.

"You're…not foolin' anyone now, are ya?"

Outside the bedroom, Rumble took his time to look around the yordle-sized living space in the daylight. It reeked of human pandering and unknown expectations. Did the windows have to be this small? Did they really think this is what an average yordle hut looked like? There wasn't a single aspect of it that Rumble didn't scoff at. He imagined a circle of hoity-toity clansmen getting together to assume everything a yordle might need without actually consulting one. Though Ziggs had said Heimerdinger was responsible for those; perhaps even the scientist could not fathom is own kind.

Once the water had stopped running, Rumble looked around the doors and cupboards, "Say, Ziggs," he called out. "Where do you keep the towels?"

"In the closet across the bathroom!"

Opening it, he took one for himself, "Oh. Thanks, Ziggs—AH!" Rumble had thought it was morning time, yet there was clearly a full moon in the open bathroom, "C-C'mon, man!"

"What? Can't a yordle be comfy in how _own abode?_" Ziggs smiled, rubbing the long towel along his back.

"Get some clothes on or get the hell out!" Rumble shielded his eyes, by no means sneaking a peek.

"Alright, alright! I'm going, I'm going."

Ruffling the fur on his head, Ziggs stepped away to let the other by. Quickly, Rumble ran in and slammed the door shut, his shame rising again. Though he was calm after a moment, the blue yordle soon found his embarrassment replaced with confusion. The technology here was foreign and perplexing to him.

"Uuhh…Ziggs?" Rumble called out loud enough for the other to hear from the other side of the door.

"What's up, buddy?"

"How do you even get the fucking water going?"

"Oh! It's easy! Just hop in the tub and then pull the lever towards ya!"

"The big one?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright." though after a brief pause, the sound of running water, "AAAHHH! FUCK IT'S COLD!"

"Whoops, left the cold water on…" Ziggs cringed, "Ah, turned the little dial around! To your…left! No! My left! Well, you can't see me but you know what I mean!"

Another pause, another howl of pain as ice cubes turned to boiling lava, "AAAAHHHH! FUUUCK!"

"…whoops."

* * *

On the road again, or rather beside it, Ziggs dragged The Rumbler across with every bump and tilt along the way. During the busier hours, there were more curious, skeptical, and fearful eyes that trailed them. Ziggs could only imagine what was running through their minds: total destruction, absolute mayhem, terroristic yordles instilling dread into the hearts of the weak. Rumble dared not to come out, especially when they approached the Academy itself. Littered with yordles and humans, Ziggs took the promised ramp up to through the doors, at least until they closed on the cart's tail end

"Damn. C'mon, let go, you…" he growled. A familiar hairstyle caught notice of his struggles and approached.

"Well, what do we have here, hm?" Heimerdinger asked curiously. The surprise was enough to unjam The Rumbler, its contents slamming into the metal frame.

"Oh! This?" Ziggs played dumb with a rushed smile, "This…is…"

Truth. Lie. Truth. Lie. Truth. Lie. Pick one, he thought. Almost-truth. Yeah, that sounded good.

"…a bomb!"

"Good heavens!" Heimerdinger gasped along with the concerned souls in earshot.

"**Prop!** It's a bomb prop! Yeah! Just getting' ready for the next touring event is all!" Ziggs patted the side of it. Rumble, rubbing a possibly bruised side, could hear the hmm'ing Heimerdinger circling the exterior If he could, Rumble would have punched the yordle square in his stupid mustache.

"You're preparing for the Academy's next yearly touring event a year in advance, Zigmund?" he raised a brow.

"Well, you know me. Always tryin' to be one step ahead of the competition."

"It is not a competition; it is merely a ceremony," he corrected, crouching down to see the flatness of the bomb's base. "Not completely spherical? And what is the purpose of this oddly placed hatch door? One does not construct an explosive from the outside-in!"

As he reached for it, Ziggs quickly jumped to intervene, "It's a surprise! No peeksies! So, where's that assistant of yours, huh? Isn't he supposed to be stapled onto your belt or somethin'?"

"Gustaav? He's running a few important errands for me at the moment."

"Gotta love them unpaid internships, am I right? Ah? Ah? Coffee, two creams, three sugars?"

Heimerdinger's mustache wiggled in a huff, "I fail to see how his presence here has any impact on your progression through your—"

"Woah! Look at the time! You're gonna make me late, Heimy!" Hurrying around the cart, Ziggs quickly took the handle and wheeled The Rumbler away, "For shame! Blemishing my perfect record like that!"

The scientist watched as the card slowly but surely left his sight, scratching his chin curiously.

The smuggler and his captive didn't find themselves safe until the last lock clicked behind the laboratory door. Only then did the weight on their chests lift.

"And we're in the clear!" Ziggs smiled back at The Rumbler, its hatch flying open to produce an irritated yordle. He sat on the edge of the opening, watching the other flip the many switches for the many light rods.

"Only you would think it's okay to openly announce that you have a giant bomb in the middle of a place like this," Rumble groaned.

"I got nervous! What else was I supposed to say?"

"Well, you did say it was an 'extracurricular project'. Guess that means you'll have to really show yourself up in next year's _Super Amazing Touring Event Extravaganza of Human-Sized Proportions!_" he gagged.

"You're mocking me, aren't you?"

"A little," Rumble smirked, jumping down. The lab was alive again with its bright, curly tubes connected the bubbling flasks of colorful fluids. His distorted face reflected off the glass as he peered into them. "So, do you just have these constantly on doing the same thing all day, every day? What even are these?"

"Oh, those? They're just bottles of boiling water with food colorings. Gotta make it look like I do **something** around here!" Ziggs leaned in and tapped the side of the blue one, "This one's starting to run out."

"Really?" Rumble would have been surprised had he not known Ziggs' track record.

"If Heimy asks, they're extremely volatile and caustic chemicals that can breakdown steel in seconds."

"Yeah, let's hope he never gets the chance to ask me anytime soon." Rumble rolled his eyes, "Alright, I'm here. Again. What're we doing today?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

Wiggling his fingers, Ziggs swiped the tattered paper of assigned projects and expectations from the wall of other hanging nonsense. He muttered to himself as his eyes scanned each item. The further the list went, the less enthused he was to read it in the first place.

"Evaluate previous explosive models, discard outdated ones, test optimal blue essence potency in upgraded hextech models. Yada, yada, yada. _Boring!" _He tossed the paper aside and opened a drawer instead, pulling out a long scroll of paper and spreading it along the center workbench. "_Now_ we're talkin'!"

While Ziggs smiled down at it, Rumble noticed that it was a schematic with doodles strewn about.. There were rough sketches of an oddly shaped bombs next to smaller, spherical ones. Even drawings of their interiors beneath them. Each were marked by pencil or ink that labeled each part. As he scanned lower and lower, he couldn't help but notice the paper also had round, wrinkled spots from some sort of liquid.

"The hell is this?" Rumble scrunched his face.

"Check it! These are the plans for my new prototype bomb that I've been carrying around in my satchel! Y'know, the one you kicked out of my locker yesterday," Ziggs giggled, much to Rumble's annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, don't remind me."

"I want this thing to detonate on impact!"

"Wow. Revolutionary."

"But not just that! I want it to leave the field _charred_ and _smoldering_ so anyone crossing gets slowed down and vulnerable to additional fire! Ha-ha!"

"That's exactly what my Equalizer Rockets do," Rumble crossed his arms. "Taking a few notes from the master?"

"Of course, I am!"

"Wait, really?"

"You think I didn't have you— er, your mech on my mind when making this? But I can't throw rockets, silly, so I'm making it into a throwable bomb! A lot smaller, too. _Itty bitty _little balls of death."

"Sheesh, Ziggs. I didn't think I was actually a source of inspiration for you," Rumble scratched the back of his head, now feeling more modest than cocky.

"But ya never told me how those rockets worked in the first place! You were always like 'Urg, I'll tell ya when they're finished, algae-eyes!' or 'Ugh, it's too much to explain, metal-head!'"

"First off, I don't grunt every time I talk. Second, why would I tell you? It's a well-kept secret, **passed **down through **generations **upon **generations **of the Sprocket family as we swore to never tell a soul! And I, Rumble P. Sprocket, am the sole heir of this heavily guarded code!" Rumble pronounced.

Ziggs blinked, unamused, "No it's not."

"Yeah, you're right. I guess I'll tell you."

"Yes, ha-ha!"

"But only if we do one of your **actually assigned projects**, too! Might as well make you look like some semblance of a productive member of society here."

"Seriously?" Ziggs threw his head back to groan. He leaned over to focus on the discarded list, "Fine, we'll make my super-awesome hexplosives **and** _catalyze the rate of mana propagation in a closed system_."

In another drawn-out sigh, Ziggs took a blank scroll of the same length and rolled it over his original plans. With a sharpened pencil in hand, he tapped the point against his tongue before awaiting Rumble's explanation.

"Now, I don't have the exact schematics on my, but—" Rumble struggled to sit on one of the taller stools, "—I'll give you as much information as I can remember, okay?"

"Ready!"

"Alright, let's see. Well, you know what my Equalizer Rockets look like, right? Start with that."

Ziggs scrawled across the page, drawing large, interconnected shapes that vaguely came together into a familiar object, "Go on."

"So, when they're launched from Tristy, they nosedive into the ground for the initial impact. Once their heads are in the ground, heated, electrical coils are ejected underneath the surface. Once those are out, the coils create intense heat, making the landing sites a slog for anyone caught!" Rumble found it appropriate to use his arms to further drive the point.

In silence, Ziggs' hand moved rapidly around the paper; a trail of graphite behind each stroke. It was almost mesmerizing how fluid his motions were, each line coming together to form a clear, concise picture. Rumble had almost forgotten where they were as everything in his periphery blurred, focused only on the swift handiwork. He half expected smoke to rise from the pencil tip once Ziggs finished and stepped aside.

"Something like _this?_"

Hopping down from his stool, Rumble could see the entirety of the canvas next to Ziggs. There wasn't an aspect he couldn't make out, not a single detail left unchecked. Organized lines labelled each mentioned part, arrows outlined hypothetical trajectories, and even the trademark doodles of helpless victims around the landing sites made his mouth curl up. Perhaps Piltover didn't change him as much as he feared.

"Wow," was the only word Rumble could muster. For Ziggs, it was amusing to watch him look at something he'd seen a dozen times over as if it was his first time, however, there was work to be done. A quick giggle snapped him back to reality, "O-oh! Yeah! This is exactly what happens, basically. Uh, here are some of the measurements from the top of my head."

With the same pencil, Rumble contributed his own diagrams, illustrated the area of effect the rockets would have on the ground, measured their individual sizes and estimated distance traveled. To him, it was like reciting the same song over and over.

"_I see_," Ziggs hummed, "Now the hard part's gonna be making this into a throwable bomb. If I'm gonna do that, I'll need the trigger to require less force to engage the coils, which means that it won't likely pierce the ground due to the reduced force of impact. The coils probably won't work. What if I replace them with—?"

Talking himself into a tangent, he began a new page of the schematics, drawing and erasing as he deemed fit. Rumble knew better than to interrupt a brainstorming engineer. He wasn't keen about the idea of helping Ziggs with Piltover's advancements; a touch of treachery from just the thought of it. But Rumble's motivations lied within Ziggs, not the city-state, and it was enough to make him start towards the assigned project.

"Alright, what do we got here? Increasing mana flow in something?"

"Ya gotta sound smart about it, buddy!" Ziggs waved a finger in the air as his other hand scribbled away.

Rumble put on his best human impersonation, "_Oh, catalyzing the rate of mana propagation in a closed system. Mmm, yes. Exquisite science. So enigmatic. Big words."_

"There ya go! Now, if ya wanna start that, I got some of the materials in the bottom drawer over there. Maybe some in the Volatility Room, too. I dunno, I sorta gave up halfway through. _Oooh!_ What if I add some of these?"

With Ziggs left to his inspirations, Rumble rummaged through each drawer until a strong, blue light shone out of one, flashing him in the eyes, "Ah! What the fuck?"

"Huh? Oh, that's just a mana-infused crystal of blue essence, buddy. Duh. Wear goggles like me!"

Rumble blinked the spots from his vision, the light simmered down into a faint glow, the irregularly beveled crystal sat placid at the bottom of the drawer.

"Those goggles are surgically attached to your eyes, idiot. And why is something like this just thrown out like it's nothing?" he clutched the gem, inspecting it in his hands, easily amounting to the size of a yordle cub.

"Because I threw it out halfway through the project like it was nothing?"

"So, you took care of the magical infusion part but couldn't be bothered to put shit together to contain it?"

"I got _really_ bored after the cool magic part."

Another door lead into the containment room, a space dedicated to testing out actual hexplosives in a controlled environment. While many parts were charred and desecrated by previous testing, there were plenty of scraps and pieces strewn about to collect.

"Ziggs," Rumble said, peeking into the room, "all of these parts are disorganized, busted up, and completely incompatible with each other." Then he brought his head back with a smile, "It's perfect."

"Isn't it?" Ziggs agreed happily, "I keep telling Heimy that but he refuses to see things my way. Ha-ha! We'll have these babies done in no time—"

_Gurgle, gurgle_. Rumble's stomach groaned over every other sound in the laboratory.

"Buddy, was that the song your stomach's people?"

"Hey, we left without eating and I haven't had anything all day!"

"That's because you didn't want to ingest the 'human slop' I had at home!"

"'Cause I don't wanna!"

"Then what're ya gonna do? **Starve** while you're here?"

"Bitch, I might."

"I'll be right back," Ziggs jumped down from his stool and made his way for the door, grabbing his keys and unfastening the locks.

"Where're you going?"

"Foodtown, baby!" he paused, "The cafeteria."

"Gross."

"The food's not _that_ bad here! Trust me, I'll pick out some stuff that you'll love. Meanwhile, _you_ have to keep this door shut and locked so no one can just waltz in and see ya!"

"Yeah, yeah, you can count on me," Rumble made a half-hearted scout salute to Ziggs' amusement.

"Great! Now, I'm gonna walk outta here like you don't exist, okay?"

After a moment of confusion, Ziggs immediately hunched forward with a look of pure boredom and depression, his ears hanging down and his arms hanging even lower. Shuffling out, the door eventually clicked shut, the keys locking everything back up again. If yordles could grow horns, then Rumble's would have sprouted right out from his head.

"You can count of me keeping people out, Ziggs, but you **can't** count on me to **not** rummage through your things," he slithered from his toothy grin.

Anything that was unlocked, Rumble opened. Any container, unscrewed. Any paper, turned over. He pushed around the disorganized tools, jars, and parts in each drawer, rummaging anything of interest. Stacks of satchel charges, stray bomb fuses, bags of flash powder, rulers, pencils, compasses, rolled up papers, all shapes of glassware and discarded mail. Nothing.

More and more did his search feel unbelievably hopeless. Did Ziggs really keep nothing personal here at all? Were they all back in the housing district? A stray envelope was quick to answer his questions. It was different from all the others; completely blank and unused. Under the seal flap were heavily wrinkled papers and as he picked up the pile, he found one folded in half three times. It crinkled in Rumble's hands as he unfolded it. Before he could read any of the inked words, a stack of photos fell from it to his feet. He cursed, quickly retrieving them. What he saw was something he hadn't seen in years; two very young, familiar face.

"Isn't this me and Ziggs?"

Indeed, it was. Two bright, smiling faces beamed right up at him filled with youth and innocence. He remembered that moment like it was yesterday: another late night at the junkyard left them covered in oil, dirt, soot, and mud, and happy as could be. Rumble knew they were trying to make some sort of cannon that explosively failed.

"Heh, I remember that. Ya big, idiot. There was no way that was gonna work."

He swapped to the next and his grin only grew wider. There he was again, much older this time, leaning against his pride and joy: Tristy. The day he finally claimed her as completely finished and completely awesome. His thumb pointing up to where he would look down at his enemies. His tattered clothes reflected the sheer number of tireless hours he put into that mech.

"Damn, I forgot how long ago I made her."

Onto the last one, there was that same mech. But this time, she had not one pilot but two. In the cockpit's seat was a winking Rumble with his arms crossed. Standing behind him was a much more recent Ziggs, holding the camera in front of them with one hand and the other one making his frequent thumbs up. His head was tilted over to look past the tall, blue mohawk. Rumble wanted to feel the nostalgia from it all, feel the mounting memories ease his pain. Instead, they did the opposite, just reminders of a time when the city-state wasn't even a blip on their radar.

"Is this why you want to keep me around so bad? You missed me…" he muttered, rubbing the edge of the photograph with his thumb. "And I missed you…"

He turned his attention to the disheveled paper and straightened it out. It was a letter addressed to him and written by Ziggs. Looking at the date, it was a few months back and right around his birthday. He shouldn't have looked but he needed to know.

_Dear Rumble,_

_Hey! How are you? How's everything going back at home? I hope you're doing great!_

_I know things aren't as fun without me around but don't worry! You have Tristy __and__ Tristana there! Two Trists!_

_Things at the Academy are awesome! The technology in Piltover is some pretty spiffy stuff._

_I hope you can visit some time. It would be nice to see you again. I know you don't like Piltover and all._

_Don't worry, though, I'm here!_

_Please don't hate me. I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry_

Rumble flipped the page over_—_nothing! The letter didn't have a closing or signature and looked as if it had been balled up and flattened out again.

"Ziggs had a real hard time writing this. I can tell. This doesn't sound like him at all." Rumble shrugged. Maybe the letter was just another project given up halfway like the others, tossed away so he could write a better one later.

"So, he really **did** try to get in touch with me. He really thought I hated him. Damn it, Ziggs, you shouldn't be the one saying sorry here," Rumble folded the letter back up with the photographs inside as best as he could remember. The drawer bumped shut and Rumble's ears pointed down to the feet he dismally looked at, "I should be."

* * *

The bustling of the city never ended, like the clockwork it proudly toted itself as. From the view of his office window, Heimerdinger could observe every human and yordle walking betwixt another, the fog rising from the pipes that ran up the tall towers across the way. His coffee steamed against his nose, taking another mustache-staining sip.

"Gustaav," he addressed plainly.

In the midst of making sure 'Te' came before 'Th' in Heimerdinger's personal library, the olive yordle looked down from his rolling ladder, "Yes, sir?"

"I am increasingly skeptical regarding Zigmund's behavior since the Yordle Academy's touring event."

"Y-you're not looking out the window to check if Mr. Jago is coming to the Academy again, are you?"

Silent, Heimerdinger paused before sweeping the curtain closed, "Certainly not. How preposterous."

"You should have more confidence in yourself and the establishment, sir. Even if Mr. Jago were to make a spontaneous visit, I'm sure he'd be just as impressed as he was yesterday!" Gustaav cheered, now looking at his pile of books beginning with 'The'.

"He wasn't impressed," Heimerdinger plopped into his executive chair. "He was…unimpressed! Aloof! Apathetic! Callous! …bored! And with Zigmund's odd, erratic behavior unveiling his shoddy, oversized mock explosive a year before the next touring event, he may be led to believe that it is reflective of the Academy's much higher standards."

"Mock explosive, sir?"

"Yes, yes, Gustaav, 'mock' meaning that it is a counterfeit imitation of something else and 'explosive' referring to something that exhibits a violent, exothermic reaction."

Rolling his eyes, the organizing yordle withheld his words and placed _The Theory of Relativity _just after _The Theory of Oxygen Combustion_, "My apologies, professor, I wasn't there to see it."

"You should have witnessed its horrid design! Subpar metal welded together over a flat base? A crooked hatch door leading to an enigma of an interior? My goodness, man, it was large enough that you could fit a yordle inside!"

With a sudden jolt, anxiety pushed Gustaav off his top step, taking his handful of books with him and zooming the ladder across the office. With a thud, his body fell onto the carpeting only for more to follow as the shelves swayed enough to send more books his way. All at once, hard-covered texts knowledge bombarded his frail body until he was nothing more than a pile on the floor. Heimerdinger took another sip of his unremarkable coffee, turning in his chair to see the wreckage.

"Do you have any theories behind Zigmund's irregular behavior, Gustaav?"

And while Gustaav had many theories on him, he kept quiet and shook his aching head out of the pile, "N-no, sir. Also, I'm fine."

With a hum of thought, Heimerdinger turned his chair around once more, "Perhaps I should ease my worried mind lest Jago observe my own irregularities like I do Zigmund's. Affirmative, I will begin that immediately!"

This coffee would only serve to energize his shaky nerves as he set it aside and lept off the chair. Walking to the office door, he ordered, "Gustaav, I'll be working inside Test Room #16 for the day doing you-know-what. Bring down an extra capacitance meter and herbal tea, would you?"

With a click of the door, the lone yordle sighed, "Yes, sir."

* * *

"I should have never looked through his stuff… Damn it, Rumble, you're only making shit worse for yourself. He's just your friend…nothing more, nothing less." His eyes were tracing the lines along the labeled pictures as if they'd distract him enough, "Friends… Ziggs had a few other friends in Bandle. Why didn't he have any pictures of them? He really only has pictures of us?"

Rumble's train of thought was cut short as the locks clicked on the laboratory door. His ears rose with his adrenaline, rushing over to The Rumbler and throwing himself inside. Not taking any chances, not knowing who might have access to Ziggs' workspace, he sealed the hatch door and kept quiet.

A great sigh followed the creaking laboratory door, "Ugh, _all alooone_… Who am I gonna share all this…" Then the door was kicked closed, "…tasty food with? Ah? Brunch is served!"

With a relieved breath, Rumble hopped out of The Rumbler as fast as he went in, the warm smells only making his stomach feel emptier. The messy center workbench had quickly turned into a dinner table with food strewn about over the schematics. While Ziggs was already working at his muffin-coffee-sausage-egg-pancake-and-bagel special, Rumble looked at the spread with conflicted eyes. Would he really succumb to the food he lovingly termed as "human slop?" Or would he suck up his pride for the sake of sustenance? His mental tug-of-war was interrupted when a soft forkful of food poking his cheek.

"_C'mooon_, Rumble. Eat up!" Ziggs leaned forward, continuing to shove it his way.

"Ah—! Quit that! Stop!"

"It's a bird! It's a plane! It's…going in your mouth!" Ziggs thrusted the fork forward, but Rumble was quick to reel back.

"I'm still thinkin' about it!"

"Look! It's the _Screaming Yipsnakes_ and Corki's at the helm! Uhh…Echo Alpha Tango Mike Echo!"

"…what?"

"EAT IT!"

"Would you just let me take my time?" Rumble shouted.

"I'm gonna shove it in your mouth! Choke on this hot sausage!"

"Don't say it like that!"

"Do ya hear it, buddy? Listen!" Ziggs made a quiet, squeaky voice, bobbing the fork up and down, "_Eat me, Rumble! Eat me! I'm full of nutrients and approximately 2 grams of polyunsaturated fats! Mmmm!_"

"If I eat this will you stop making dumb voices?"

"No promises but I'll give it a shot," Ziggs grinned.

Admitting defeat, Rumble looked all but alive as he watched the fork press against his lips and smear the sticky dough along his face.

"Mmmm! Yummyyyy!" Relenting, his mouth bit off the food forced into it, finding the sweet softness to be more welcoming than anticipated, "_Well?_"

"…it's good," Rumble slurred with his cheeks full. He would never say the food was over Yordleland's quality, but it was pleasing to the palette and that's all he needed to work at his own plates.

Wherever Ziggs could see the papers below them, he would scribble his notes for future reference while washing down his wads of food with gulps of coffee. His eyes never strayed away from them and neither did Rumble's from Ziggs. The busy yordle looked content like this, as if settled down for the rest of his life. Did he truly love his craft or was he simply happy Rumble was around again? Underneath that energetic exterior and Cheshire grin, Rumble couldn't shake the feeling that regret harbored deep inside. Like a dirty secret, he kept his knowledge of the photos and letter quiet, still finding it hard to imagine Ziggs an emotional mess in the very same seat.

"Say, you remember Mr. Cherriman in Bandle? The one with the old-lookin' hut?" Ziggs suddenly brought up.

"Huh? Oh, him? Yeah, I remember him. Bet he's pretty old now, huh? Surprised he hasn't kicked the bucket yet."

"Remember how we used to leave firecrackers at his doorstep and then hide in the bushes?"

"Hah! Yeah. Then when he could open the door…"

"He'd look down…"

"And have a face full of powder!" they cheered in unison.

They laughed as the memory played out. Taking turns, bringing up shenanigan after shenanigan, project after failed project, as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Laughter followed each. They laughed about youth, adventures, sky-high dreams and the moments in between.

The day progressed onward in the most casual way that breakneck manufacturing speed could. Ideas were tacked onto the corkboard until it could hold no more, diagrams taped against the wall around it as they played mental tennis. By the middle of the afternoon, Rumble was completing his first prototype: "The Mana Influx Dominator Mk. 1." Ziggs, meanwhile, was assembling what he called his "Hextech Minefield."

Though Rumble's project progressed effortlessly, Ziggs became more and more frustrated as every hour brought upon another failed trial in the Volatility Room. It was only when Rumble grew bored of staring at his floating, glowing, mechanical mass of blue that he proposed the idea of injecting unstable mana into the hexplosives.

Leaving Ziggs to develop on the idea, his highly interrupted sleep was catching up on him as he took a seat back to the center table. A long yawn left him slouching over, resting his head in his arms as his eyelids grew heavy. Ziggs continued to work on his project through the evening as the Sun sank beneath the cloudy sky.

By the time Rumble had awoken, his dragging ears could barely hear a hum and blurry eyes looking up at the single light rod above. The spotlight left the rest of the lab darkened around him. Rumble wiped his eyes to make sure everything was as it seemed. Across the table, Ziggs mimicked the other; his cheek pressed against the busy surface, arms splayed above his head as he snoozed the remainder of his shift away. There was a calmness from watching the slow rise and fall of his back.

That calmness turned to fear, however, as even the thick walls around them could not block out the sound of roaring thunder outside. Rumble cursed they would have to walk underneath the storm. Well, Ziggs would.

Rumble wanted to beat the rain, if they could, and that would mean shaking his lab partner awake. Though when he jumped from his stool and moved around the table, his curiosity brought him to look through the schematics instead. He wondered how much progress Ziggs made alone and, as it turned out, quite a lot. Arrows traced across the paper as brackets set up measurements and labels pointed at special components. Logs of each test were abbreviated along the borders until one read with large, bulging letters "SUCCESS!"

His recommendation seemed to have paid off. Ziggs must have felt brighter as doodles were more scattered about than usual. Cartoon test subjects blowing into smithereens, angry Rumble faces, and a smiling Ziggs using one of the curvy lines as a slide.

There was one doodle that caught his eye. On the bottom left corner of the sheet were two heads, side-by-side: Ziggs and Rumble. The Ziggs head gave two thumbs up against his cheeks while Rumble smirked with a wrench in hand. Oddly enough, it was faded with eraser shavings swept along it. He traced along it with his finger, conflicted.

"Ziggs," Rumble muttered, turning his sights onto the slumbering yordle. He wanted to blame his fluttery stomach on the food, yet knew deep down it was a scapegoat. Urges were reemerging and overwhelmingly coercive; the will to fight them failing the more he gazed. Right now, he needed to do something, anything to rid himself of these feelings, if only temporarily. A faint voice squealed to not take advantage of Ziggs again. However, a much louder one pushed him forward.

Closer and closer, Rumble leaned in to Ziggs' fuzzy cheek. Smelling his burning scent, there was only one thing left to do. He pursed his lips and cowered away.

"No way! Nu-uh! Not this time! Just control it, Rumble," he coached himself in the darkness, "You need to quit this shit."

Once again, he looked towards the quiet one, ripe for the picking.

"Alright, just once, that's it. He's not gonna know anyway."

Eased up. Scooched over. Face in. Failure.

"Gaahh! No! This is so gay! Just go over, wake him up, look him dead in the eye, and give him a good, stern kiss. What? No! Fuck!"

There were trips back and forth, limbering up on the sidelines before moving in for the kill and the subsequent defeat. He held a deep session of thought by the side counter, changing approach as he rose up from the center table like a shark stalking its prey. Nope. A few bangs of his head against the wall later, Rumble's heart finally won against his mind, taking a deep breath and clenching his eyes shut. When lips met cheek, he backed away in disbelief.

"_Did I really do it? I definitely kissed him, didn't I?"_ That was quickly answered as Ziggs shuffled and groan awake, "_Shit! I did! Quick, act natural!"_

With a yawn and stretch, Ziggs looked around to find Rumble leaning against his palm along the side of The Rumbler, leg crossed over the other with an ear to ear smile.

"Rumble?" he slurred out, lifting his goggles.

"Oh, Ziggs! You're awake! Check that out."

"What're you doing?"

"Me? Oh, y'know, just waitin' for **your** sleepy ass to take us home. It's gettin' late, y'know?"

"It is?" A quick look up to the ticking clock told him it was nearly an hour past his scheduled shift, "Ah crap. Oh well, a little overtime never hurt anyone," he hopped off his stool, shutting the burners off, "Except maybe the payroll department. Alright, hop on in, buddy. Time to go?"

Ziggs caught a quick thumbs up from the prop bomb before it clanged shut. Shrugging, he wheeled the cart out the door and, soon, out of the Academy. Ramp included.

The panging of rain against the metal exterior told Rumble that they didn't quite make it before the storm broke. For once, he was thankful that he had the hollow bomb to hide in. The pinch of guilt brought the hatch door open anyway.

"Ziggs, it's raining."

"What? Where?" the other feigned astonishment before giggling.

Somberly, Rumble's ears peeled back, "I'm really sorry."

"S'alright. It's not like you summoned the rain via ancient, forbidden rituals of the arcane. Right?"

"Still, I feel like shit about this."

"Besides," Ziggs looked back with a dampened smile, "I'm used to draggin' ya in the rain."

There wasn't much Rumble could say against that bittersweet memory. Looking up, the sky recited his namesake and with a sudden, flashing spark—

* * *

—_he yelped back, right off his seat. That cursed emitter core was shorting again and monthly maintenance had become weekly. The blue yordle shook his head, angrily jumping back up for a swift kick against his mechanical suit's rear._

"_Stupid thing, work already!"_

_As if hearing his infuriated plea, the suit responded with a stable blue light from its posterior generator. A subtle humming cued that it was mended and functional. For now at least._

"_Huh. I forgot I fix most of my problems through kicking. Nice." _

_With that, he moved onto his next order of business, retrieving his tools._

_Another day, another cog. Or was it a bolt? Maybe a nut? He picked up this wrench for a reason. A growing habit, really. Didn't matter; Tristy was getting an upgrade today and nothing was going to get in the way of that. _

"_Alright, girl, let's tighten up that loose arm of yours now," Rumble tossed the wrench into the air, catching it effortlessly into his gloved hand. The battle suit was crouched down for the smaller yordle to walk around it with ease._

_Ok, so maybe it wasn't exactly an upgrade. However, any and all improvements to his pride and joy— whether they were just mere maintenance procedures, tweaks, or polishings— were advancements to him. Rumble tucked a grease rag into his side pocket and brought down Tristy's piston pump fist, finding it more wobbly than he'd prefer it to be. Time after time of use left her with the occasional wear and tear of trying to stand up straight. And yet, he made sure with every new day Tristy's metal would shimmer against the sunlight. Rumble didn't care what he looked like inside the cockpit of his creation so long as she looked sleek and threatening. What else did he have to his name?_

"_Looks like the arm isn't holding the piston too good," Rumble looked toward the single, large screw that held the arm connected to the ring of metal around the appendage, "I should take it apart and replace the circle brace. Or maybe she needs a new screw. Or a bigger arm!"_

_Oh, the exhilarating thoughts that ran through the yordle's mind. It was his dream to stand atop a towering junkyard battle suit in pride, leaving trails of destruction with every stride he took. Not that he didn't do that already, however, something a bit taller or wider wouldn't hurt, would it? Actually, it just might._

"_Let's get that arm off first and check the damage," Rumble spoke to himself, almost as if Tristy would answer him. It didn't matter if people saw him talking to the lifeless machine; they knew better than to get on his bad side. Grabbing an oversized screwdriver, Rumble twisted the screw loose along the left arm enough to make the piston pump arm fall with a loud "clang!"_

"_Whoops! Sorry 'bout that, babe!" Rumble bent down and picked the huge piece of spiked metal up with both arms, straining the keep it lifted. Slow and wobbly steps towards the low-rising table and another loud drop later, the yordle was ready to operate. Inspecting the arm up and down, left to right as if it was his own child, he extended the metal out, looking at the streaks of oil that kept it lubricated. Nothing wrong here, time to move on. _

_The arm's main attraction, the heaviest part by far, was the mass of polished steel and spikes sharpened to a point. And yet, it was sheer luck that Rumble came across the beauty. It served as an old weapon attached to a pole, most likely a large mace. No one would miss it having been tossed away in the sea of scrap parts of long-forgotten progress. Some modifications here and there and suddenly the yordle found himself with a truly dangerous piece of equipment. However, it was those modifications that were the problem at hand now. The bolt that kept the spiked head attached to the piston was rusting and weak._

"_Can't say I didn't see this one comin'…oh well. Time for some tuning up!"_

_The blue yordle wasted no time getting to work, scavenging around his many tool dressers inside the columns of drawers, all filled with whatever could fit inside them: nuts, bolts, screwdrivers, adjustable wrenches, washers, drills, pliers, magnifiers, cutters, tweezers, hammers, mallets, nails, scissors, line gauges, nibblers, ratchets, gas cylinders, oil canteens, drill bits, tape measures, dial indicators, masks, goggles, explosives, micrometers—_

_Ah, explosives. Those weren't exactly his. In fact, his workplace was almost shared amongst one other yordle. Rumble took one of the small, spherical bombs in his hand, looking at it almost admiringly. His work was volatile, unsafe, dangerous, and yet, brilliant. He looked up at the wall-mounted clock. Noon. A smirk crept along his face as he put the bomb back where he found it, chuckling and shaking his head. He continued to look through his tool boxes, counting down the moments until the inevitable._

"_3... 2... 1..."_

**BAM!**_ Rumble's garage door slammed against the ceiling, the shining sunlight layering over the garage as it rose._

"_Heh-_hey_, __**BUDDY**__!"_

_Unphased, Rumble could hear the ever-so-familiar voice of his lifelong companion barging in; typical Ziggs etiquette. He turned his sights onto the approaching yordle, blindly feeling around for an optimal bolt. He was radiating confidence and boasting a smile that could rival even the most heinous of villains._

"_Hey, Ziggs! Woah, you look happier than usual. Get laid?"_

"_Aw, buddy, you know no one would touch me with a 10-foot extendable baton! But you flatter me," he fluttered his eyelashes with a peculiar pose._

"_Maybe if you didn't always walk around smelling like a burnt fuse."_

"_I got the best news ever today. You'll never guess!" Ziggs cheered with excitement in every syllable. He cleared a path with his feet, scooting scrap and tools aside before falling into a chair with his arms casually draped over the back. "Guess!"_

_Rumble couldn't help but chuckle again, his smile never fading since Ziggs arrived, "But you said I'd never guess!"_

"_Too bad! Guess anyway! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Ziggs moved his arms, coaxing his friend into his little game. Rumble scratched his chin, having a faint idea of what he would be so excited about. Of course, he'd be wrong anyway so why not have fun with it?_

"_Let's see. Is the mayor finally demoting you from a S-Class weapon down to an A-Class?" Rumble asked slyly, cocking an eyebrow towards the now frowning Ziggs._

"_No! No. No, he did not. I am still a threat to any legal structure and a hazard to all citizens of Bandle City within a 50-mile radius. Lo the years of combustible science that have brought nothing but fear into the eyes of my brethren. But I ask you, are we not _all_ weapons in one form or another?"_

"_Stop showing off, would ya? You know my Tristy's still a B-Class," Rumble stated disappointingly._

"_Hah! That's because she's always on the verge of falling over. If she wouldn't hurt anyone on the way down, she'd be C-Class!"_

_Rumble laughed, "True! True. Alright, I give up. What's the super-awesome news?"_

"_Get ready, buddy! Hold onto your goggles! Because right here, in my pocket, I have a letter straight from—" Ziggs froze for a moment, then frantically began searching in every pocket on him, "W-where is it? No, this can't be!"_

_Rumble let out an impressed whistle, "The surprise is that you still forget everything before coming here? Real shocker, there."_

"_But I just had it! Gah! I musta left it in —"_

"_Your lab. I know," Rumble interjected, shaking his head, "You always do this."_

"_It's not my fault! I've got a million things on my mind and that's a 0.000001% chance of me remembering, y'know?"_

"_I'll, uh, take your word for it."_

"_We gotta go back and grab it! I can't make the reveal super-special without the super-special envelope!_

"_I dunno," Rumble scratched the back of his head. "I'm kinda in the middle of repairing Tristy right now. Can it wait?"_

"_Tristy, huh?" Ziggs looked behind Rumble, seeing the piston pump arm disconnected. "What's wrong with the girl? Did she dump ya? Hah!"_

"_Very funny," Rumble rolled his eyes and turned around, having heard iterations of this joke too many times to count, "Her arm's just a bit loose. The bolt holding the head of it is wearin' out and I just need—"_

"_This!" Ziggs passed Rumble an ear-to-ear smile, holding up a large, silver bolt in a pinched grip. Surprised, the blue yordle turned around and inspected the bolt._

"_That's exactly what I need for her! Where'd you find it?"_

"_The moment I saw that poor arm all by its lonesome I knew what was up. And with all this mess ya got on the floor it didn't take long to find a solution! You really gotta clean up once in a while, buddy."_

"_B-but I was looking everywhere for— Gimmie that!" Rumble growled, snatching the bolt from the snickering Ziggs, "And __**you**__ shouldn't be talking! Your lab is just as messy!"_

"_Is not!"_

"_At least mine isn't harmful to my health!"_

"_Oh c'mon! No use cryin' over spilled hydrogen chloride! Right?" Ziggs looked towards Rumble for approvable, worried when none was received, "__**Right?**__"_

_The other only cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, taking the optimal bolt over to his detached, metal appendage with a small titter._

"…_right!" Ziggs reassured himself, reaching behind and patting himself on the back proudly. "Good point, me. You're so smart."_

"_Yeah, yeah, lemmie just stabilize this arm, reattach it, and then we can take Tristy back to your lab. How's that sound?"_

_Ziggs' ears perked up at the invitation, his toothy grin now expanding towards his ears._

"Oh!_ I call shotgun! Ha-ha!"_

_Rumble could hear the clanging inside Tristy's cockpit, looking over to see Ziggs upside down inside, kicking his legs. Normally, Rumble would have engaged the emergency ejection function and pummeled the invader with the nearest metal object. However, this was Ziggs; a yordle he could trust with, hell, his life. While he was known for blowing up nearly everything he touched, Rumble knew any mess Ziggs caused would eventually be fixed. At least, that was the treatment he was given._

_Rumble kept at his repairs as Ziggs situated himself inside the cockpit, lounging with his arms behind his head and his feet atop a shaky lever._

_"Say, Rumble, ya know what I was thinkin' we could do today?"_

_"What's that?"_

"_Well—" Ziggs' careless foot found the battle suit's emergency ejection function, launching his body into the air and smashing against the ceiling. His screaming was followed by muffled groaning._

_It has been said, ad nauseum, the word "insanity" is defined as repeatedly doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. And if Rumble could count the times Ziggs made the same mistake, "insane" would hardly scratch the surface. He looked through his various wrenches to find the most fitting one._

"_Ya alright up there?" Rumble asked without looking, hearing Ziggs peel off the ceiling and plummeting back into Tristy, rocking the suit. "Or…down there?"_

_Ziggs sprung back up with his persistent grin, leaning against the side of the cockpit and rubbing his nose._

"_Hah! I don't think she likes me."_

_Rumble, having removed the old bolt, began tightening the new one with brute force._

"_Ngh. That's 'cause—" he grunted, "—you don't know how to treat her."_

"_But you do the same thing all the time!"_

"_Yeah," Rumble wiped the sweat from his brow, looking up at Ziggs with his own smile, "But _I_ know how to do it __**right.**__"_

"_Whatever. Say, is my nose all screwed up now?" Ziggs wiggled his small, pink nose._

"_I dunno. Let's check," Rumble walked up to the side of Tristy, taking his wrench and placing Ziggs' nose inside it, turning it slowly, "Hmmm."_

"_Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! Quit it! You're gonna break it like that!" Ziggs waved his arms around, scrunching his face._

_Rumble chuckled, taking his hand off the wrench it leaving it dangling from to Ziggs' nose, "You're all green, pal. Aha-ha!"_

_The teased yordle looked between in his eyes at the protruding wrench then back at Rumble, crossing his arms, "Thanks, _pal_," he said in a nasally voice, ripping the wrench from his now sorer nose and tossing it aside._

"_Just help me get this arm back on and we'll head off to your place."_

"_Finally!" Ziggs jumped down from the battle suit._

_The two yordles each grasped one end of the piston pump arm, realigning it to its original position and fastening it. Rumble brought the arm up and down manually, evaluating the performance after maintenance. It met his expectations._

"_There ya go, baby. As good as new," Rumble ran his fingers along the cold metal of the piston._

"_Get a room, you two!" Ziggs teased, rocking the suit up and down with his excited bounces inside the cockpit, "Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!"_

"_Alright! Quit bein' so impatient. I'll be up there in a sec."_

"_Impatient? I'm not impatient!_

"_You're like a little kid getting a birthday present!" Rumble stuffed his toolbox with previously discarded equipment._

"_Hey! I'd like to believe that the crowning achievement of my life's work to be accepted and embraced by like-minded peers is a legitimate reason to be excited!"_

_Rumble closed the toolbox before throwing it inside the cockpit and hoisting himself onto the bouncy, pleather seat, "Ha! You crack me up sometimes, Ziggs."_

"_And that fixed-up arm looks like it's ready to _crack_ some heads open!"_

"_I sure hope so. Last thing I need is for more malfunctions"_

_The ritual to awaken Tristy began as Rumble flipped switches, turned knobs, pulled levers and stomped his feet on some pedals until the shaky suit unfolded its legs, holding the cockpit elevated off the ground. The ceiling was just high enough to accommodate the upright suit so that the mounted Equalizer rockets didn't scrape the surface. The suit leaned in every direction as it eased to life._

"_Easy girl. Steady. C'mon, get a hold of yourself!"_

"_You heard the man! Quit wobblin' already!" Ziggs ordered out, sending a swift kick to the side of the cockpit. All at once, Tristy seemed to freeze up, no longer faltering in place and awaiting the pilot's commands. Rumble looked around in surprise, seeing his creation oddly obedient towards his friend._

"_Huh? How'd you—?"_

"I_ know how to do it __**right**__!" Ziggs shined his cocky grin to him with a giggle. The accomplished yordle threw his hands behind his head, leaning back beside Rumble._

"_Shut up."_

_With a series of pulling levers and depressed pedals, Rumble swiveled the battle suit out of the garage and into the warm sunlight of the newborn summer afternoon, kicking and stomping on random tools and parts along the way. Another flick of a switch and the garage door closed behind them. Ziggs looked back over the edge of the cockpit._

"_When did ya get __**that**__ installed?"_

"_Remote control of the door? I've had that in for a while now. Takes a few tries but it works."_

"_Ha-ha! You surprise me every day, buddy!"_

"_Y'know I told you about this a week ago."_

"_Oh. Well, that's a surprise to me, too!"_

_As if lounging on the beach to tan his fur, Ziggs felt the warm sunrays wash over his face and Tristy's metal heat up. Rumble focused on keeping the suit upright, knowing his invention's limitations in regards to speed._

_The group crossed through small patches of fragmented forests, Ziggs pulling small branches off along the way and poking Rumble's face with them. As instructed by the mayor himself, Tristy wasn't allowed to cross through Bandle's major plazas or roads in protection of the innocent residents. Other, memorized routes on the back roads were used to travel to Ziggs' workshop. There, in the abandoned Industrial District, the air was heavier with rising fumes and whatever else stained the skies._

"_Say, Rumble," Ziggs spoke up, facing the half-focused yordle._

"_Hm? What's up?"_

"_After the big reveal, what else did ya wanna do today? It's only noon!"_

_Rumble hummed in thought. His days seemed to always begin and end with Ziggs, almost as if he was a necessary part of his daily routines; who else would he feel comfortable enough to keep in his garage and take part in hazardous activities with? It didn't matter what the two did to pass the time, aimless tinkering or destructive disassembling, they had each other. Rumble looked at his side towards his partner. Always around him, always by his side. Sometimes he would question why Ziggs stayed around him for so many years. Then again, who was he to question what ran through that crazy yordle's mind?_

"_Who cares? We got the whole day to ourselves. Besides, I'm sure we'll think of something before it gets dark."_

"_We could do a scavenging run in the Junkyard! Haven't done one o' those in a while. Oh! How's about we bust out some good ol' fashioned blasting caps and go wild? OH! I got an idea! How's about—"_

_The excited yordle went on and on with random notions on the day's happenings. Trips to the junkyard, pranking residents with harmless firecrackers, it all seemed like fun and games with Ziggs. Nothing ever seemed too dull or serious enough for him to stop laughing at it. Rumble admired these traits about him, wishing he'd feel so carefree one day. Perhaps Ziggs was there to fill that void. Rumble would have never thought of purposely causing nonsensical explosions without Ziggs and Ziggs would have never thought about sharing his perilous creations in the first place without Rumble. He could only smile to himself, hearing the rambling voice of his companion spatting out increasingly unimaginable ideas. See how many bombs he could stuff into his mouth? What was he thinking?_

_It was difficult to imagine life any other way and any possibilities for change were quickly swept out of his mind at the sound of Ziggs' audible laughter. Best friends through thick and thin._

"_Yeah, yeah, that sounds great and all, Ziggs, but what's this surprise? I'm dying to know, now!"_

"_Got you all riled up, didn't I?" he snickered, holding onto the back of rumble's seat, "Fine, I'll give ya _one_ hint, got it?"_

"_Alright, lay it on me."_

"_It's a super-special invitation—" Ziggs threw his arms up in joy, "—straight from Piltover!"_


	5. Radical Dreamers

**Aria of Isolation**

**Chapter 4: Prelude to the sausage**

_The change of time was the only constant he'd ever known. Threads of fate would flake away before his eyes, much like the one in his hands._

_"Why?" he asked in a hoarse voice, "Why does it end? Where does it end? What went wrong?"_

_Each delicate event traced between his boney fingers, desperately searching for the point of descension. Then, he stopped._

_"There you are."_

* * *

The storm raged through the night. Torrents of rain submerged the streets and panged violently against the windows. Squalls tore through trees and swayed lamp posts. And booming thunder shook the earth as the skies flashed with sparks of lightning. Umbrellas scurried quickly under shelter until roads laid bare.

Yet still, there was peace. For some, under the rising sun above clear skies. For others, the sight of their safe and warm kin. And, for a few, in the embrace of another. They anticipated nothing more than waking to their soft hold, their partner's pledge of protection through the night's enigma. Waiting for these moments like the rich spoils at the end of a journey, a gentle "Good morning" would follow a soft kiss and the dread of parting from their bed behind disgruntled groans.

Though, these moments have a tendency to play out a little differently.

"Mrf...hmph..." Rumble muffled, stretching his legs. However, his arms were a different story as they pushed against soft fur that tickled his nose. Slowly, his senses came to, and a familiar warmth ignited a fearful sense of deja vu. It climbed from his gut and right into his heart - another night of uninvited cuddling.

This was different; less of a cuddle and more of a coddle as though he would have gone missing if Ziggs wasn't there. He didn't even bother wearing a shirt that night, either, and Rumble's hands were left to bathe in the pelage. Why he couldn't just throw himself off, curse Ziggs' name, and stomp out. The hold was strong but not binding enough to stop him. So, why? Why couldn't he leave?

It didn't take long to answer. Just one look at his bedfellow, and all was made clear. Sometimes it was unfathomable how the yordles of Bandle City could consider him a Weapon, this peaceful face of innocence. You'd never imagine that same face to smile amidst a blazing field, hide away in the corners of his ruins, and cringe tears back upon his own self-loathing. To Rumble, his friend was only tired. To the rest of Bandle, even a monster needed sleep.

He knew it was all just an accident.

Yet urges were mounting, and his body agreed. Soon his cheek fur meshed with Ziggs' chest, taking advantage of the slumbering. Always the tough guy, he showed foremost, company unwanted and love unneeded. But it was all a front, and the minute Ziggs stepped out of his life did the ache of dependency flare again. He wanted warmth, a smile, a companion, and, deep down, he believed one was found. The rest of him wouldn't have it, however. Just for this moment, he tuned out his mind and sink into the embrace.

_"Damn it, Ziggs. You're a real asshole for doing this to me. At least you sleep like a log."_

That was reassuring, knowing that he wouldn't wake up to see Rumble succumb to fluffiness. After all, he was asleep. Right?

_"Right...?"_ Rumble asked himself, eyes wide.

Slowly they panned up, from fuzzy mounds up to an ever-smiling face. His eyes were closed, thankfully, and breaths were lazy.

Good - he was in the clear.

Suddenly, shaky claws dug into Rumble's fur.

"**RISE** **and shine, buddy!**"

"AAAH!"

His flailing sent him clear off the bedside, thumping onto the ground. Heart racing, Rumble collected himself while the other laughed cheekily from the edge.

"Hah! Gotchya this time!" Ziggs proudly proclaimed through uncontrollable giggling.

Shock turned to embarrassment. Embarrassment turned to anger. And anger threw a forceful finger against Ziggs' nose. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" But that couldn't erase Ziggs' grin.

"**That** was revenge for last night!" he swatted the hand away from his face. "You think you can just get away with throwing me off my bed? Hah! Not in **this** house!"

It may have been a game to Ziggs, but Rumble lashed out a heated interrogation, "Why were you holding me like that, huh? Were you doing that shit to me all night? And why the fuck aren't you wearing a shirt, you idiot?"

"Well, it was the only way to get ya to calm down! What as I gonna do?"

"What?" Rumble simmered, concerned over his unconscious behavior.

"That storm was a doozy last night," Ziggs threw his legs over the edge. "It had ya squirmin' and squeakin' and squirtin' all night! Tears, I mean."

Oh no. It happened again. Rumble had thought himself brave enough to weather a storm even in the comfort of a home. However, that was hardly the case. Years of growing up afraid of the elements would shake him through the night. That cursed thunder; it rocked him to his very core.

"Did I? Really? The whole night?" Rumble looked over at the window, checking if the storm was truly gone.

"_Yeah._ I was _kinda_ hopin' you would stop at some point. But after the seventh time you kicked my leg, I wasn't takin' my chances. So, I took matters into my own hands! And, well, you."

Rumble lost his words and any ferocity that rode on them; just a sad yordle with shame pulling his ears down. He wasn't even brave enough to look at the other.

The bed's creaking broke the silence as Ziggs launched himself off and stretched his arms. As he walked towards the door, he left Rumble with one last unpleasant reminder.

"But I guess it's always been that way with you, huh, buddy?"

_Click. _The door closed, and Rumble was alone. He curled up; he'd been made a fool. Years of vulnerability sturred in his heart and clawed up his spine to stab a fragile psyche.

"_Damn. Fuck. Gyah! Why? Why am I such a fucking coward?" _he looked up from his arms. "_Ziggs...I've been trying to tell myself that I didn't need you anymore, that I was alright alone. But I've been proving myself wrong ever since I left Bandle."_

His head went limp, resting it against his forearms.

_"Fuck."_

* * *

A bright, bustling morning brought squeaky shoes and smiling faces throughout the Academy's lobby. Students walked with cliques, and professors carried suitcases to teach them. Auditoriums filled their seats, and visitors took their pictures. Amongst this seemingly endless chatter was a nervous Heimerdinger, contributing his own longwinded tales.

"And that was the precise date and time that the Academy's inception was conceived! However, the development wouldn't proceed until repurposing was organized by contractors," he explained to the tired Jago leaning against his cane.

"Cecil, I asked you how you were fairing, not the complete history of your establishment," Jago stated bluntly, rubbing his temple.

"O-oh! Yes! Of course! My mistake, Mr. Medarda. …I am fine."

"I find that doubtful."

"I wasn't expecting you to arrive so promptly. Ah, however, it is a welcome visit, nonetheless!"

"I did say 'be ready,' did I not?" Jago looked down with a sharpness to his eyes. Or perhaps that's where his wrinkles pinched off.

"Oh, absolutely! It's just that…typically when two entities expect to meet one another at a future time, archetypically, they would…" The older man's slight furrow ended his stammering. "…and what can I elaborate for you today, Mr. Medarda? I can show you anything that the Yordle Academy of Science and Progress has to offer!"

On cue, the sounds of clanging and struggling caused many in the lobby to look to the front doorway. Another morning of fitting the Rumbler through the quick-closing doors drove Ziggs to mercilessly pull on the groaning metal.

Jago cocked a brow, "You can start by elaborating on...that."

"Oh, Maker, help us all," Heimerdinger prayed, covering his eyes.

"We have **really** gotta find a better way to do this!" Ziggs spoke aloud, then caught himself. "I- I mean...**I** have to find a better way to do this! Yeah! Just me! Alone with this stupid, overgrown **piece of sh—**" Finally, the cart rattled through, wiping his sweat off. "—uccess! Haha!"

Suddenly happy again, he dragged along the disguise with feigned pride. That was all taken away, however, as Heimerdinger threw a quick hiss.

"Psst! Zigmund!"

Ziggs froze, seeing the professor accompanied by the much taller Jago, both with glaring like he committed a crime. Feeling caught in the act, he could only resort to what any reasonable person would do: he pretended not to see them.

"Hey! No! Come here, Zigmund!" he continued to call.

Ziggs hummed innocently, wheeling the cart in a different direction.

"No, no! I know you can hear me!" Heimerdinger whistled, patting his knees and snapping, "Zigmund, come!"

Now he pretended to hear a siren, flailing his arms and running around the cart in a frenzy.

"Cease that! There are no fire drills scheduled for today!"

Feigning a broken leg, he twisted and writhed on the ground, howling in pain.

"Oh- Oh, goodness, man! Don't do this now!" he laughed nervously at the displeased human, raising his voice, "**Zigmund!**"

Finally, the cart slowly squeaked up to them, stopping just before Heimerdinger's tapping foot.

"Zigmund," he plainly stated before a head slowly peeked out from behind.

"Oh! Heimy! I didn't even see ya there!"

"...quite."

"And you brought your big friend here! Look'it that!"

"Big friend, indeed, as you should undoubtedly recall him from your memory as Jago Medarda, sole head of the Medarda merchant clan..." Ziggs blinked behind his goggles, Heimerdinger dragged his words out, "..._that form the governing bodies of Piltover?_"

"I have little time for reiterations of my title and position, yordle, I ask you, what _is_ this piece of...equipment you're dredging across my streets?"

The older human circled The Rumbler like a guard inspecting a poor farmer's wagon, and the yordle inside could feel the gaze piercing through the hull. Ziggs needed to think quick - what would sound the most astonishing, even to a human? How could he make the Academy look superior to the rest? Surely someone as prestigious and revered as Jago wouldn't want to hear about an empty prop. No, his wayward mind spoke, he would have to fake it until they made it.

Heimerdinger was quick to stammer in, "Oh, this? Aha, yes, why, this is simply—"

"Only the most latest and greatest invention of man and yordlekind!" Ziggs hoisted himself atop the echoing faux-bomb with his arms skyward, hoping the hollow sound wouldn't give him away.

Jago furrowed his brow, leaning against his cane, "Of _man_ and yordlekind?"

"You bet! This baby'll make demolition history! Crafted with only the most diligent and _mystical_ hands Runeterra has to offer, this...uh, ZR Super Prototype Combuster X has the ability to bring down **any** building in a matter of seconds with its power alone! **Gone **are the days of setting up multiple explosive charges in super specific spots! Just plop this baby in the middle of your useless, abandoned dump and _presto!_ Imploded and ready for the cleaning crew."

Ziggs' improvisation quickly turned into a sales pitch. However, Jago was a hard customer to please.

"ZR standing for…?"

"Uhm, it stands for…'Ziggs…Rules?'"

_"Asshole,"_ Rumble growled in his head.

Before Heimerdinger could interject, he continued.

"What's that I hear? Not using it for conventional demolition? Need something to smite your enemies in rageful war tactics? **Not** an issue! It doubles as an explosive nuke to wipe away any threat from their miserable existence! How's that for omnipotent, eh?"

"So, you've been wheeling a _weapon_ around, have you? And what makes you think that I would allow such a dangerous contraption around innocent civilians? Not that I believe your words entirely. Look at this...thing," he poked around with his cane. "That odd, asymmetrical shape, that ill-fitting hatch, and a **juvenile** skull print to boot?"

While Heimerdinger's excessive hair soaked in sweat, inside, Rumble cringed at the latter part of Jago's criticism. He knew what those iconic skull prints meant to Ziggs as they were plastered on nearly everything he made, no matter the size. Knowing his friend all too well, there was a twinge in his head and a break in logic. He had only hoped that Jago's death would be swift and painless. Scratch that, slow and grueling piqued his thoughts more.

Jago continued, tapping the hatch door, "Open this. Now, yordle. I am certain this monstrosity is hardly the genuine article and completely incapable of the features you advertise so—"

A tight grip on the cane lurched the older man forward, a toothy, menacing grin now stretched across Ziggs' ever-nearing face. It was a look of boiling rage, unmitigated offense, death-inducing gaze hidden behind goggles that reflected Jago's shock.

Ziggs' voice was just above a whisper now, a tone unlike your cartoon villain foreboding their devilish plans, "Now, now...opening this thing would be very...ill-advised. After all, it _is_ incomplete and highly unstable. _Very _dangerous...and we wouldn't want anything unexpectedly...uncontrollable to happen, would we?"

The frozen air was rife with tension as the staff and students of the lobby seemed treated to a daily scene of discourse. The tips of Heimerdinger's gloves were nearly gnawed off. Ziggs knew of the hatred some humans harbored of his kind but also of their fears. He walked a tightrope between his escape and his outright termination, though, in anger, he happily skipped along it.

Jago was brought back when Ziggs released his grip, salvaging his pride and authority with a shunning scoff, "Get this thing out of my face," he ordered, a demand Ziggs was more than happy to oblige as he jumped off The Rumbler and wheeled it away.

"Have a _wonderful_ day, Prego! See ya around, Heimy!" he waved off.

"It's…Jago," the words hissed between his teeth.

Heimerdinger would watch until the pair disappeared behind the bodies resuming their regimens and nervously approached the taller figure, "M-my sincerest apologies regarding Zigmund's behavior! You see, he is very forward and unabashed in his rhetoric! I assure you he will receive an appropriate reciprocation for his nonsensical behav—"

"Cecil. I believe a private meeting in your office is in order, wouldn't you agree?"

The question was one Heimerdinger could hardly contest, and the droop of his mustache fit his solemn tone well.

"I would…very much agree…Mr. Medarda."

* * *

Aircrafts dragged along the cerulean sky, across the older man's vision until the edge of the window hid them away. There was the click of a door closing, the tacking of a Newton's cradle, and the subtle ticking of a clock behind him. For him, it was all white noise to dissipate into the aether. Yet, for another, the sounds lingered until the atmosphere stagnated. Each tick like a labored breath, each tack like a wrecking ball; Heimerdinger could hardly stand it.

At his desk, the yordle fiddled his thumbs above intertwined fingers, on the cusp of staring and avoiding eye contact. And just when words were about to find their way out, Jago was quick to throw them back down.

"Cecil," he started.

"Yes, Mr. Medarda?"

"Do you know what makes Piltover the shining example of greatness in Runeterra?"

There were many aspects of the city-state that Heimerdinger could criticize. However, it was certainly not the time to voice them. So, he poured his thoughts through a fine filter until only the positives remained.

"Why, of course! From its modern, lofty architecture down to the very astute and innovative minds who have made it so, there is hardly anything I could fathom to state conversely."

"And do you know why I keep a strict code of conduct here? Why the clans hold the sole responsibility of Piltover's happenings?"

"I would have to venture that it is because of—"

"It is because of our lofty investments into Piltover. Our patents, our illustrious inventions, hextech bordering on magic itself, and the flow of our golden economy. All of it like steel pillars underneath a mountain!" His wrinkled gaze turned to Heimerdinger. "And yet...so fragile, like toothpicks under glass; easily broken down should the wrong actors play their parts."

Standing turned to pacing as Heimerdinger followed Jago's movements, "Wrong actors, Mr. Medarda?

"We have opened the gates for you, built your homes, given you land. Piltover has been generous to your kind, wouldn't you agree?"

The series of subjects struck the first nerve. Heimerdinger furrowed his brows, "I would."

"Whether we discuss amongst the clans individually or converge into a single voice, our investments into this city-state are synonymous representations of our trust. Trust that they will return our generosity with the continued prosperity we are so known for. Trust that is...difficult to construct, yet so easily destroyed."

"My assumptions are leading me to believe that it is not just the integrity of trust you are referring to, and I prognosticate further deliberation regarding a certain population of citizens."

Silence, the human nearly surprised by the yordle's daringness to speak. He should have known, given how different Heimerdinger was from the others. Though he would not show it, even away from the public light, there was just a touch more respect he had for him over the rest of his kin. Enough to unfasten his book from his coat and place it on the desk in front of him.

"Cecil, do you know what this is?"

Looking down, the gold-trimmed book was more intricate than most he'd seen in Piltover. Only the title '_Actum' _was engraved onto the leather, the pages bound inside were a mystery. Heimerdinger looked to Jago, and after a slight gesture, he carried on. Pinching the cover with sedulous fingers and several pages after that, his swift eyes scanned each page. Frilly letters inked beside thorough sketches, each turn found them differently arranged and not in the slightest uninformative. He'd seen enough.

"To my understanding, this appears to be a chronicle. Of your travels, I observe. I am aware of such. I have had the honor of speaking to other clansmen and women about such lengths that you've undergone."

"That is an abbreviation of my travels across Runeterra, originally recorded in a much longer series of journals. It details some of my most dangerous and rewarding ventures, seeking inspiration and wealth from nearly every corner of land this world has to offer. Years spent on the high seas, naught but the map in my hands and the clothes on my back. A map that will reflect upon generations of seafarers to come."

Jago's palm placed over his chest, hands livelier now to accompany his rhetoric. Heimerdinger's patience was wearing thin.

"But do you see, Cecil? My trials and tribulations, my deeds and devotions, my industries and investments! I have worked too long and too hard to build Piltover into the illustrious apogee it prides its reputation on only for the fires of "mishaps" to burn it all down!"

And that struck the next nerve.

"Mr. Medarda, I am **very **well aware of your **haphazardly** extroverted opinions on yordlekind **and** their affairs within the city-state, and I can **assure** you that they are—"

Ziggs.

Heimerdinger stopped. Ziggs' smile, mannerisms, trade, risks, mishaps, damages, liabilities, and befoulment; they all blew the tracks from his train of thought. There were worries about Rumble and his own contentions with humans. Yet now, Heimerdinger managed to allow an even greater detriment to his race's image under the guise of hope and progression. Though he sought to tame the manic yordle, his clairvoyance did not reach this moment, and the sudden weight of regret lingered like a lump on his throat.

When sputtered fragments of words were all that were left, Jago found his point made and lazily shrugged.

"Do not find me the enemy for my judgments are not without others. Think of me as the voice of the people, people who are concerned for the homeland they oft seek asylum within. Were it your own, would you not listen to your people?"

There was logical reasoning, yes, though it was rare for Heimerdinger to deny such validity. He believed in yordles. With every fiber of his being, he believed. Although not all are created equally, he knew outliers would become the overwhelming minority to an unsuspected majority. That these few characters, wherever they may reside, would forever soil yordlekind's reputation. But he made one last promise despite the hint of doubt on it.

"The yordles of the Academy are a culmination of our land's most prestigious and ingenious minds. We are steadfast in showing our technological advancements to this city and the rest of Runeterra. We would never risk the lives of others to do so."

Jago didn't look convinced if his dead stare was anything to go by. He retrieved his book from the desk and clipped it back onto his belt without further comment. Maybe Heimerdinger would have found some solace after his statement if Jago hadn't taken his time at the door.

"Then, I would suggest removing those in your establishment who would prove to Piltover otherwise. _After_, we may speak of finances."

_Click._ The door's closing was the last sound Heimerdinger would hear in the empty void he called an office. His eyes were fixed at on the desk's brown faux-wood as if it would comfort him, as if he was ashamed to look up at his own nigh efforts. As it was once was when he first arrived to the city-state, so it was still. The words of the clansmen tried his will and tested his resolve to go on. There was a tough choice to make if he understood Jago's final words.

"Ahem," a shrill voice broke through. It was just enough to make the sullen yordle look around, "M-Mr. Heimerdinger, sir."

From under the desk, it came. Heimerdinger pushed against the edge to roll the chair back and bent down to look. There hid away the ever-cautious Gustaav, curled up to fit just right in the leg space, shaking.

"I-is it alright to come out now?"

Heimerdinger rolled his eyes and sighed, "Of course it is, Gustaav, we live in a modern society of waning heteronormativity. Of course, it's okay."

"I meant…from under your desk, sir."

"Oh…right."

The chair slid back far enough for him to crawl out. He brushed the dust off his coat and pants, then shook the rest away. The clipboard found its way back into his arms as a familiar face of worriment looked towards the pondering scientist.

"What're we going to do, Mr. Heimerdinger? By the sounds of it, Mr. Jago wants Mr. Ziggs removed from the Academy!"

"Prefixes are not always required to refer to someone's—" he pinched between his eyes, taking deep breaths. "…I'm not sure, my assistant. This is a precarious situation I find myself in."

He tapped his chin, sat up and peered through the same window Jago had as if it would shine the same light of wisdom. There were two options, neither without consequence. Like a shelf of poisons, his eyes dragged from one to the other and in between them the deepening line between humans and yordles. What would he have to sacrifice for the world to wholly accept them?

"M-Mr. Heimerindger?" Gustaav checked, having watched the other stare out for some time.

The pondering yordle lifted his goggles and closed his eyes. In his mind, everything was weighed: the gains, the losses, the practicalities, and the emotions. While he wished for everyone in the Academy to succeed, he knew, for the greater good, some could not. In a way, one life to save the rest. He would mourn that loss as if over its limp body: denying that this was the best plan of action, anger at the inability to change, bargaining with himself as if some temporary truce between him and Jago could form, depressed at the repercussion that would resound in horror.

Then, lastly, acceptance.

"Gustaav," he looked over his shoulder, enough to catch the fidgety yordle jumping at the mention.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"For the progression, expansion, and longevity of this institution, I am reluctant to state that we are required to discharge Zigmund from his duties here posthaste."

Wide eyes stared into the other's, his purpose and responsibilities all weighing heavily on his heart. And with that, a sudden burst, "You can't!" that was quickly quelled, "…Mr. Heimerdinger, sir, I don't know if this is the best course of action to take."

"And you would offer an alternative solution to this obstacle?"

Would he? It wasn't common for the professor to ask of him a solution rather than an order, and the thought of Ziggs' fate in his hands shook him. Gustaav sailed from the comfort of his home to the chaotic, human-sized city for a purpose now tried. Trusting, his superior told him before departure, in himself and his abilities. He wished, oh how he wished that a foolproof, perfect plan would suddenly shine and resolve all their imminent issues.

Yet, all was dark, and Heimerdinger could see that well enough, "I thought as much. There _is_ no other solution, I'm afraid. I cannot fathom what limitations the Academy will confront should we not receive our peers' financial supplementations. Because of this, I have singled out Zigmund as the outlier of our faculty."

"Mr. Heimerdinger, please, there must be some other way! I…understand that Mr. Jago isn't very fond of Mr. Ziggs…b-but we can't just throw out our own. Not when Mr. Ziggs has worked so hard!"

"Not as productive as you may have been led to believe, and he is still a liability despite all else. We are most aware of this. It is because of the incident that we find ourselves here," he paced, looking down as if his words were sewn in the rug. "When I invited a Weapon such as Zigmund to present at this establishment, I'd thought him permanently banished from our homeland. Fitting, given the mayor's strict code of conduct. I knew that only I had the wherewithal to see his true potential while simultaneously controlling his unmitigated and exponentially dangerous research by assigning him menial tasks that both exercise his safer methods and supplement the Academy's curriculum."

Gustaav tried his hardest to both listen and think about alternatives. Where would Ziggs go? What would he do in light of knowing his unemployment? Would he go back to Bandle City and burn the rest of it down? More importantly, what would Teemo do? Lost in thought, words fell on his deaf, droopy ears until his name was spoken again.

"Do you comprehend now, Gustaav?" Heimerdinger finished his pacing.

"Huh?"

"Jago Medarda is a powerful man, and despite his absent support since the Academy's founding, its future may very well depend on him. I believe his wealth and words hold the key to the unification of yordles and humans here. If there is any individual we must present convincing evidence of safe practice and strict guidelines, it is **him!** And I expect your full cooperation."

A part of him wanted to retaliate, to keep his knee from bending before higher expectations. And yet, that leg did bend along with disappointed ears.

"I…I don't think I should…" he stammered before getting cut off.

"Have you forgotten the acquisition of your position, my assistant? The methods employed to convince me of your worth as an asset?"

And he would never forget them. The order. The contemplation. The dark night. The slumbering yordle. The uneasiness from his captain. The long boat trip. The glances and rejections. Then, his ace up his sleeve, the precious schematics. He was proud of it, of anything he did, but for the safety of Bandle…

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "V-very…aware, sir."

"If you value your position, then I profoundly encourage you to assist me in this undertaking. Are we in agreement?"

Time was of the essence. Gustaav would do just what he grew used to since dawning the collar: keen of mind, fleet of foot, and swift of hand. Though hesitant, he did nod in the end.

Heimerdinger smiled, making for the door past Gustaav, "Wonderful. Now, we must conduct a foolproof approach to this through productive brainstorming…and some hot tea!"

Well, at least one of those sounded enjoyable.

* * *

Jago could see a faded reflection looking back through the vehicle's tinted window. The engine's muffled hums and subtle bumps on the road were white noise compared to his booming thoughts. The driver knew better than to strike up a conversation, best to leave the older man to his own brainwork. And so he did as clouds swirled around Jago's tufty, white hair and a haze formed beneath his spectacles, the soft vinyl seat hardly enough to comfort.

Leather gloves stretched around fidgeting hands atop the cane's flatly curved head, uncertain futures playing before him across the passing street sides. He would see a yordle, then another, then more as they outnumbered the humans. They ran amuck, jumping, screeching, thrashing, banging, killing. The rightful positions of power corrupted in yordle conquest, banners resown, laws rewritten. They laughed at him, bringing him to collapse along with the very infrastructure his kind risked life and limb to build. Piltover was _his_ right, _his_ lands, _his_ domain. Damn him if he gave in, he thought, and damn the grotesque smile on that yordle's face. He knew not the forces he laughed at.

"Aerostat," Jago surprised the driver with the sudden order.

"I'm sorry?"

"Left at Aerostat Avenue."

"But Master Jago, the clansmen are expecting you in—"

"They will wait. Left. Now. I will direct you from here."

The driver obliged and left he drove. Right, he was told. Straight. Keep right. Ignore those. Next left. The plain orders were leading them somewhere, though Jago never explicitly told him their destination. He'd driven the clan leader before, and while Jago's personality was akin to a bossy piece of sandpaper, there was an expected urgency in his voice. Worried as they made him, the questions only piled higher once he was given the order to pull over.

Outside the window, the driver lifted his cap to see the Piltover Wardens' station.

"The Wardens, Master Jago?"

With sarcasm, a pull of the lever, and a swing of his legs, Jago stepped from the vehicle, "Very perceptive of you."

The driver couldn't get to the door fast enough to open it for the other and watched the clansman walk to the guarded doors that bore the Wardens' crest above it. Officers patrolled the premise, and the shining curvatures around the square building complemented its complex methods around their elementary motives. He knew not Jago's intentions though he did know their scheduled engagements.

"They'll be expecting us within the hour, sir!"

Jago didn't look back, his mind made up and the fire of antipathy in his eyes; he would not be made a fool.

"This will only take a minute."

* * *

"Uuuurgh! He gets under my skin so muuuuch! Aaaah!" Ziggs dragged claws down his gritting face, now in the comfort of his sealed off workspace. The parked Rumbler's hatch flew open.

"See, Ziggs? I told you. Humans are nothin' but pieces of garbage! And not the good kind," Rumble brought a leg over the edge, still not acquainted with his mode of transportation that cared not for his stumbling body that fell flat on the ground. "…ow."

"They're not _all_ like that geezer! I know some nice ones!" Ziggs hoisted himself onto a stool, idly taking a pen and scrawling along a blank scroll, "Just not him."

"He sounds like an old fart who glued his ass to the highest seat he could find for the past 200 Cycles. And you work for these hacks!" Rumble dusted himself off, searching the drawers across the long counters for anything of interest.

"Hey, I work for the yordles, not him!" an angry pen pointed at the other, scribbling pieces and labels around a clear picture.

"Well, the _yordles_ here work for him, clearly. Did you hear Heimerdickshit blowin' all that steam up his ass?" Rumble throwing himself into a deep drawer, rummaging and throwing out parts, "The dude's a brown-snout."

"The whole snout!?"

"He's in there!" With a grunt, Rumble pushed himself out to move into the next, "And this 'Jago' guy sounds like the kind that huffs his own farts in a wine glass."

"Wowie, any other _posterior_-related insults ya wanna throw out, buddy?"

Rumble hummed in thought before snapping his fingers, "He's an asshole."

"Oh, nice one!" Ziggs poked his tongue out as he finalized the schematic, hopping down to hang it up.

"Now you wanna explain why you would tell the 'head honcho of _Piltover_' that this stupid, overgrown bomb is real?" Rumble walked over to examine it himself, crossing his arms. A small hull, double propeller system, mana-powered. Typical, he thought.

"I panicked! I wanted to make him go 'Oh, boy! Sounds exciting! Can't wait to roll this baby out!'" he left to grab a handful of tools, tossing them onto the center workbench. Throwing the wooden doors open, a small cabinet glowed a bright blue. Despite the mana crystals' fragility, they were haphazardly stored on top of one another. Ziggs broke a small piece off, "…any derivative of that would have sufficed, too."

"Yeah, except all you did was make him go 'Ehhh…I don't get it. It's stupid. Huh…? Where am I again? Why is my penis so small?'" Rumble imitated a breathy, elderly voice with a hunching hobble.

"Hah! Yeah, he's one slipped disc away from retirement, I bet!" Ziggs took short sheets of metal and loaded them into the bender, pulling the lever down and shape them into a curve.

Meanwhile, Rumble found any composite materials he could to thin out and cut leaf-shaped pieces out of it, "And what was up with that name-steal, huh? _The Rumbler_ not cool enough anymore? Finally seeing things my way?"

Welding away, Ziggs glided the contact tip of the wired pen diligently, sparking light reflecting off his goggles, "Panicking, buddy! _Panickiiiing!_"

"Ya didn't panic enough to let him see me, that's for sure. You shoulda heard yourself. Thought you were gonna kill him!" Rumble joined the larger wings to a thin, metal rod before attaching the smaller ones higher up, "…which woulda been totally awesome, by the way."

"I dunno what happened! I saw red! I snapped! It's like somethin' in me went…" Ziggs stopped welding for a moment.

"…_snap?_"

"Yeah, that!" Then finished the tiny, spherical hull.

"You always were really into your skull prints," Rumble chuckled, flicking the propellers and watching them spin. "You put 'em on all your bombs. The bouncers, the C4s, the firecrackers, even the land mines that people wouldn't have seen anyway!"

"But _I_ saw them. And that's all that mattered!" he held a palm out from behind, "Motor, please! Oh, and a receiver."

On cue, Rumble took one of the small remote chips and lobbed it into Ziggs' hand, "Sure, 'cause if you didn't, ya wouldn't be here right now!" Once he found a suitable sized motor through all the junk drawers, that one flew, too.

The pair laughed, Ziggs finding a place to weld both parts inside, "Ain't that right? Say, maybe I should get one as a tattoo!"

"Only if you plan to blow yourself up eventually," Rumble expertly twirled the screwdriver in his hand, uncovering the back of a spare remote he found through his rummaging.

"I do!" Placing the glowing shard inside, Ziggs sealed the tiny hull and jumped off his seat over to Rumble, "But where would I put it? My chest? The back of my head? Oh! What about my lower back for faster taxi rides?" For emphasis, Ziggs bent down to wiggle his rear in the other's direction, "What do they call them again? Cramp Scamps?"

It only took a glance to make Rumble drop his screwdriver in a fluster, "A-ah, I don't think anyone wants to see your asscrack like that!"

"How's about on my arm so that when I flex, it makes a mean face! Grr!"

"You're not _that_ bulky, dummy," Rumble rolled his eyes, securing the chip and resealing the remote's back.

"Next to you, I'm a Garen-chested stud, noodle-arms!" Ziggs grinned and, after a few exaggerated flexes, moved connect the rotor mast to the metal sphere.

"Shut up, algae-eyes."

"Hah! You haven't called me that in a while, buddy!"

"That's 'cause I haven't _seen_ you in a while, ya big idiot. You've been busy working under the biggest tool for Piltover and not sayin' shit to me in the meantime!"

"I already said I was sorry, okay!? Sheesh," Ziggs shook his head, giving the oddly-shaped copter one last inspection.

"I just don't know how long you're expecting me to stick around here, Ziggs. We've already had one close call, and you know Heimerdickcheese would go screaming to his human overlords if he ever saw me. On top of that, I didn't exactly come here with any supplies! It was just supposed to be an in-and-out mission."

"Nonsense! I make decent hex here! I can buy ya whatever ya need. Really!"

"That's not the major malfunction here. You know me, and this place will never work out. By the sounds of it, that includes you."

Ziggs was tight-lipped on that one, silently staring at their finished product in his hands. With a push of Rumble's remote, the rotor blades spun in a soft whirr, and the copter rose into the air. The yordles watched it float off in several directions, the flow of mana guiding it along invisible paths.

Rumble stepped up to his partner's side, "Ziggs…we gotta go home."

He sighed and spoke solemnly, "You know I can't, buddy…I'm a Weapon."

"So am I! Who cares?"

"An **S-Class** Weapon!" Ziggs raised his voice, looking down away from Rumble as if in shame, "To Mayor Jades, I should be **dead**, and the Industrial District should be a big ol' forest by now. They ain't nothin' but happy over there with me gone."

"We don't need Bandle, Ziggs."

"Whatever happened to being the city's 'protector' and stuff?"

"Hey, I still have pride in my city, it's that stupid mayor we've got making things all magic, now. Besides, we can go back to a different settlement or something."

"Start a new life! Make new names! Quarkmund Zigbrand! Yeah, that's good."

"I'm serious. We can't stay here!"

"**You** can't stay here!" Ziggs snapped back.

After a few rounds along the laboratory's perimeter, the tiny aircraft ran out of juice and descended onto the floor by Rumble's feet, lifeless.

"So…we're back to that, huh?"

"Listen, listen. They don't hate me here, okay?"

"Not yet."

Ziggs grumbled, pacing around in a circle, "At least I can work here without the whole dang city thinking I'm gonna kill 'em. I couldn't keep goin' on with my research with Bandle goin' back to only magic. Heimy let me feel welcome here and thought my stuff was pretty good! Y'know, after I patched up the wall and brought those scientists back. But…I know that's a whole lotta stuff you don't wanna hear. I get it. But you don't belong here, and I don't belong there, buddy, and I'd be a real stupid yordle if I forced ya to stay here."

He found his way back to the center workbench, lifting himself atop the stool and leaning against his elbows, "I'll…go look at the ship schedule and buy ya a ticket whenever. We can go super early, so maybe no one'll see us and…you can go back home."

Rumble was beginning to feel guilty. Despite the typical venom he spat in the other's direction, he knew Ziggs would always smile back. It was only when he didn't that Rumble would reconsider his words, fixated only on making that toothy grin shine again. There was a strange want for it, a need for someone to show him that everything was alright, that everything was going to be alright. Sometimes, Rumble had to be that someone.

So, he picked up their once-flying trinket and spoke up, "Nice try."

"Huh?" Ziggs looked over his shoulder.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy. Yeah, sure, I hate it here and everyone in this stupid fucking city. But I didn't haul myself across the sea just to run away. I agreed to help you with your projects here, and I keep my word. Once we bang 'em out, we'll…think of something. I dunno. But I'll stick around for as long as you need me."

Those familiar words, so easy did they strike a chord in his heart. Ziggs almost found it sly for the other to dig up the past like that. Then again, he was just as guilty. Always fooling each other with the same tricks over and over. One of these days, he'd see it coming. But for now, he treated himself to the pleasant surprise.

Ziggs rested against a single elbow now with a reassuring smile, "But that could be forever at this rate."

Rumble returned the smile with his own, "Even better."

There was a universal warmth felt in the room, their heads, their cheeks, in their chests, and deep within hearts. Words could not find their way through, and the silent moment of content staring quickly turned awkward, coughs, and hems tying the loose end.

Ziggs scrambled for his list of assignments, "Ah…so! What's, uh, next on our…**list**, buddy?"

_Knock, knock, knock._ The almost absorbed pounding against the laboratory door raised their ears and adrenaline. With looks of worriment, Ziggs flicked his arms towards Rumble to shoo him away back into The Rumble. Scrambling in, the hatch door clanged and twisted shut. A quick dust of his suit and locks undone, the metal door slowly crept open.

Zigged peeked out, "Oh! Look who it is! What can I do for ya today, Gus?"

The timid yordle adjusted his glasses with a soft smile, "Ah, exceptionally good morning to you, Mr. Ziggs. I hope you're doing well this, uh…m-morning."

"Never better! And you know what would make it even _better?_"

"What's…that?"

"Getting back to my work! So, have an explosive day, don't have a short fuse and all that."

His attempt to dismiss the other was thwarted with Gustaav's hand resisting.

"W-wait a moment, please!" With a sigh, Ziggs let up his fight, "I apologize that I must take you away from your workflow momentarily, but this is of the highest priority!"

Ziggs frowned at his wordiness, "You're hangin' around Heimy too much, you know that?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ziggs, but the Academy has issued critical…surveys to their staff members to get a better understanding of how we should move forward prior to our expansion, so I'll just need you to come with me for just a few minutes to complete it."

"An expansion? Sounds like a **blast**!"

"Indeed. So, if you would be so kind…"

"I think I'd go **nuclear** if this place got any bigger!"

"Um…I suppose so?"

"Heimy's meeting with that Jago guy musta been **dynamite!**"

"…Mr. Ziggs, what're you doing?"

"Hoping that by staying in-character, you'll run off. It's not working, is it?"

Gustaav giggled with another adjustment of his glasses, "I must apologize again," and looked him dead in the eyes, "I'm not afraid of you."

That last part didn't sit well with Ziggs, given the cabbage-patch yordle's usual cowardice. Looking into the green yordle's eyes, he could see something else behind those round glasses. They looked kind, accepting, thoughtful from the outside, and yet…

"Now, if you would?" Gustaav stepped aside and motioned for Ziggs to follow.

It took some glances back into his lab before he acquiesced, taking some solace knowing Rumble would be safe in his stead. He just needed to keep the door locked, not light any fuses, and all would fare fine. He repeated this from the time he found they keys all the way until the door was secured shut.

"Alright, alright. Locked and **loaded.**"

"Mr. Ziggs..."

"Worth a try, right? _Alright._ Let's make this a quickie."

"Right this way."

Gustaav led Ziggs down the corridor, making sure to create a safe distance between them and the lab.

Peeking around the corner and certain the footsteps had disappeared, Heimerdinger quickly acted out the rest of his genius plan.

"Excellent. Ziggs has been lured from his routine location of work. With that, Phase 1 is now complete, and Phase 2 shall begin. Given my authority, I shall utilize this universal key that will allow me to bypass any attempts to lock away secrets! …Hm, perhaps speaking aloud would not be favorable given the current situation."

He shrugged, then inserted and twisted the key, hearing the door's mechanisms respond accordingly. His eyes were ever-shifting, ears tuned for the smallest sound. With a grunt, Heimerdinger pushed the thick, metal door in with a loud groan from both. Just enough room was all he needed to slip in, his pompous hair getting caught only momentarily before tending to it. Amid the pats and twirls, his eyes set upon the plainly unhidden prop across the way. Perhaps it truly was an in-progress nuke? Heimerdinger wasn't sure at this point; Ziggs' sporadic behavior and sudden secrecy made him an unreliable source. Matters would be taken into his own hands.

"There you are, you amalgamation of trouble and disorder."

Outside, Gustaav and Ziggs walked in tandem, passerbys with their own greetings and busybodies without theirs. Perhaps they would have stopped to take in some of the more underappreciated sights of the Academy if Ziggs didn't look like he'd run off at any given moment. The green yordle needed to act quickly, this on as long as he could, a feat that sounded as impossible as it felt.

He cleared his throat and began, "So, Mr. Ziggs…"

"Heh?" Ziggs turned his head as if just noticing the other.

"I hope your morning is going well."

"As much as I'd _love_ to chit-chat in circles with ya, Gus, I'd _really_ love to make this quick so I can get back to Ru—uuuuunning _tests on my new hexplosives?_" his voice peaked.

"Oh, right! Of course. My apologies. This shouldn't take too long."

"This isn't gonna be one of them physicals again, is it? I already did that when I got hired!"

"No, I don't believe—"

"Because **last time** they couldn't find a yordle to do it! They got a human to look me over! Can ya believe it!?"

"I can see where that may have made you uncomfortable, but—"

"And he did every exam in the book! And this guy didn't even use one finger, no, no, he used **two! **You have any idea what two human fingers feel like!?"

The air was tense for Gustaav; no response felt appropriate. Ziggs thrusting his fingers up in the air didn't help, either.

"R-right…I think I understand, Mr. Ziggs, and I can assure you this isn't a physical. Just a simple questionnaire that I have…here on my clipboard…complete with…several questions…written in…" Gustaav dragged his words with a guilty smile at the other, "…green ink."

Ziggs wasn't so amused, even when the other forced a laugh. Gustaav flipped his page to read off his bogus survey, seeing much fewer questions and far more doodles of afros and crying cabbages.

"Right. So, first question: What is…your name?"

"Ziggs," he stated plainly.

"Your _full_ name."

Then he sighed, "_Zigmund Wilbrand Quark._"

The pen scratched against the paper, "That's a very nice name, Mr. Ziggs."

"Isn't it? Middle one's my dad's."

"Next: How old are you?"

"Are you kidding me? Isn't this stuff already on file!? Specifically, the file titled 'Who Gives a Shit!?'"

"Please, Mr. Ziggs. We're just updating our records."

This sigh was much more exaggerated, "I think it's been about…25, 26 Cycles?"

"It's 'years' here, Mr. Ziggs."

"More like 'yeesh' here. Anyways, saw a lotta Suns and a lotta Moons in my time, and hopefully I'll see one more if my tests go right."

"Let us all hope they do, then. Now, what about your height?"

"I'm about…six Stems high? Seven if I stick my ears up! What's that for humans again?"

"I believe that's about three and a half feet tall here."

"They use their feet? Weirdos."

Soon they found themselves crossing one of the numerous sky bridges with a clear view of the staff and students below. Many would be found enjoying the views if they weren't afraid of heights or jealous of those stationed on floors above. Gustaav imagined a wayward yordle like Ziggs jumping from one of these. For fun, of course. He looked to his clipboard.

"What about your eye color? You're seen with your goggles more often than not."

That one garnered his interest, "Oh! This is a good one! Everyone thinks my eyes are all red under here. _But_…" With a slow grip around one side, he quickly slid them up to reveal shining emeralds gleaming over a cocky smile, "Hah! Got 'em!"

"Green goggles with green eyes? I wasn't expecting that…but I guess we weren't missing out on much, were we?"

"That's it! Exactly! Ya see, Gus, the _real_ surprise is that it was plain to see the whole time! You just didn't expect the next part," he giggled, stopping to look over the rails at the immaculate layout, spreading his arms out. "That's one of my many lessons on hexplosives! I'll give ya that one for free."

Gustaav jotted his words of 'wisdom' down and stopped beside him, taking in the same view. It was a stark contrast from their homeland, and integration was no easy feat. Indeed, the city-state wasn't designed for yordles, and its massive architecture was an attestation to that. Returning to the clipboard, the next menial question was about his favorite food and the following his shoe size. Yet, curiosity burned brighter, and his tapping pen dashed them away.

"S-speaking of lessons, as a dean, have you established your curriculum for any future classes?"

Ziggs tucked his arms behind his back, "Oh, you bet. Brought it up to the board a hundred times and changed it up twice as much!"

Expecting him to carry on about the semesters he'd overlook teachings and how exciting practical exams would be to experience, Gustaav stayed silent. But no comment followed.

"…And?"

"Nnnnnnno takers," Ziggs stayed his gaze on the denizens below.

Perhaps, if Gustaav were to see beneath those goggles, he would have found the glint of disappointment in those eyes, the stress weighing the lids down. His sinking smile was all he had to go off, and it was enough to see something was wrong. The board was finicky, sure, but denying someone for so long said much more. He had assumptions about what they might have been afraid of, and Ziggs was quick to confirm them.

"They keep sayin' stuff like 'It's too dangerous! It must be revised!' or 'Hmm, perhaps with a few more modifications.' or 'We'll consider it, just give us time!' And every time it ends up back at my door with the same red stamp—the bad one. I keep toning it down, toning it down…nope. Heimy keeps telling me they're processing my next one, but…I think we all know where that's goin'."

The moment didn't call for it, and he believed it was only in Ziggs' character to look over and smile despite the fact, "Guess that makes me the Dean of Nothing, huh?"

Just then, Gustaav knew his heart wasn't in it, in any of this. His ears flattened at the solemn turn this plan had taken. What was he doing, taking something so precious as their livelihood away from someone who had nothing else to their name? He felt ill for agreeing to facilitate his firing, as if his face would turn greener. His own eyes, heavy like the Ziggs', stared down at the busyness, at the students he could teach, at the opportunities he was denied of. This was wrong, and his orders between superiors were conflicting. No, he knew his purpose here, and this wasn't it.

Gustaav dragged his sleeve up to check his wristwatch. Heimerdinger asked for ten minutes - five had passed.

"Well, I feel I've kept you long enough, Mr. Ziggs."

Ziggs snapped out of his trance, "Oh! That it?"

Gustaav nodded cheerfully, "Yup. I told you it would only be a moment, didn't I?"

"Heh, yeah. Look at that! Looks like I'm off…" Ziggs walked backwards, still in eye contact with the other, "…to work in my lab! …alone!"

"Right," Gustaav assured.

"_No_ one else! Just me! Ehehe!" but did not leave until he tripped over himself first.

"Of course."

The two stared at one another from afar, Gustaav trying to hold his smile and Ziggs in a limbo of uncertainty and confidence in his foolproof lies. Then, as if in a single frame, he darted off out of sight. Surely, he had pressing matters in his workplace to address, though Gustaav knew better.

To be left alone to his own inner conflicts was all he could ask for in this moment, reflecting on his decision. Heimerdinger was a genius whose sole purpose was to lead yordles into a new age of technological and societal equality. Teemo grew enigmatic over the years, sure, but as a leader, he believed in the strength of yordles as much as Heimerdinger. His superiors were alike in their goals yet brought their underling into conflict. Over a single yordle, to add.

Were they afraid of Ziggs? Or just too hopeful?

In humor to lighten the situation, he looked to his spurious survey to read what little was filled out. From a third party's perspective, given no context, the only knowledge they would garner on Ziggs would be his name, place of birth, height, eye color, and that surprises can be found in plain sight. It wasn't much, and yet, Gustaav felt this was all he needed to know to understand him.

Back in the laboratory, Heimerdinger found himself circling The Rumbler, eyes meticulously scanning. He was on borrowed time and needed to act swiftly if he were to ever prove his theories correct.

"Appears otherwise harmless. With the ease Zigmund appears to transport with, I exponentially doubt this genuine. …though, just for precaution."

With an ear lightly pressed against the cold metal, he listened as two knocks were delivered. In return: echoes.

"Empty, for the most part. This leads me to believe that my fears are justified. Now then," he dragged the nearest stool up to the hollow bomb and climbing atop it. This brought him at the height of the hatch door. A quick rub of his palms readied the struggle he would face twisting it open. Time was ticking, and this moment was likely the only one he would get. A firm grip around the wheel and the scientist set his procedure into motion with every fiber of deceivingly toned muscles.

"Rrrrh! If my hypothesis is valid… Nngghh! Then the entity contained in this… Rrrff! Counterfeit combustible… Guhh! Will confirm the smuggling of unauthorized personnel working in this facility… Gyaah! And serve as a proper rationalization for Zigmund's fortunate… Grrrrhh! And unfortunate—"

_Clang!_ The wheel loosened, and the door flew open.

"—termination! …eh?"

In a way, Heimerdinger's assumption was proven; the bomb was empty. Yet, disappointment was stricken across his drooping mustache and furrowing brow. He could not very well believe his own eyes and peered closer in. Where was he? Was he utterly wrong? Was Ziggs honestly acting territorial over a prop? This couldn't be, and the professor could only scratch his haphazard hair in confusion.

"B-b-b-but…this cannot be true! Surely, I have made a critical error. Perhaps he is elsewhere…"

Finding the door to his lab ajar, Ziggs' sudden presence throwing his heavy door open would deliver another strike to Heimerdinger's theory…and his balance.

"HEIMY!"

"GOODNESS!"

The two shouted, Heimerdinger flailed about on the stool until he fell back headfirst into The Rumbler. At least, he would have had his overgrown hairdo not plugged the opening, leaving him upside down with body dangling just above. It was an embarrassing display with grunts and squeaks of struggle that ultimately led to his topsy-turvy scolding.

"Ahm, aheh, you see…" he began as Ziggs crossed his arms with a tap of his foot and a sharp scowl. "I have a…reasonable explanation for this."

"Heimy… **What** are you doing in **my** lab!? How'd you even get in here!? And what are ya doin' to my bomb here!?"

"One question a time, Zigmund, and I would be happy to answer them."

Ziggs squinted behind his goggles, and his foot tapping hastened. Though Heimerdinger was reluctant to ask, the blood was rushing to his head rather quickly.

"I…understand that this is not the ideal time to request assistance in matters such as these, however, I would be generously appreciative if you would…_help eject me from this vessel?_"

With an even more reluctant sigh, Ziggs picked up the stool chair and hoisted himself onto it.

"Your words, not mine."

Strong holds on his ankles sent worry through Heimerdinger. Whether it was another mistake or not would be based on perspective. The abrupt tug did well to dislodge the yordle, sure, yet the result was a swift journey to the floor as he flew overhead and onto his back.

"D'oof!" Heimerdinger grunted with a bounce, shaking himself out with a dusting. He found his footing just in time to see Ziggs assume his impatient posture again, "Ahem. Zigmund, I'm sure you're wondering…what I'm doing here."

"**Yes…I am,**" he growled.

"You see…" Heimerdinger's mind was quick to work after a moment, "After your verbal, and nearly physical, exchange with Mr. Medarda today, I needed to…confirm that your comically enlarged bomb here was indeed **not** a—"

"'Mega Destructo Nuke o' Death and Destruction'?"

"…quite."

"Heimy, c'mon, you know I wouldn't just tote around a **real** bomb like that around here! Well, not today... Have some faith in me, would ya? Don't have to break my lab to figure that out. Rude, by the way."

"Then why advertise it so?"

"Thought it would impress him," Ziggs shrugged. "But he didn't exactly warm up to the idea, so I guess I don't have to actually follow through!" Ziggs thought for a moment, looking between The Rumbler and Heimerdinger with a sudden grin, "Unless ya want me to."

Heimerdinger waved his hand, "That won't be necessary, Zigmund."

"_C'mon!_" Ziggs threw his arms about, "Why won't you let me do anything cool for once!? I hate doing this busywork all the time! I gotta roll out my own ideas, not keep building off other peoples' models!"

"This 'busywork' you loathe is fundamental in the progress of invention. If we cannot augment and build upon the ideas of others, how are we to prove to that we can offer better?"

"'Cause we have something they don't!"

Heimerdinger sighed, crossing his arms, "You're going to mention our natural attunement to Runeterra's magics and Mana now, yes?"

"…yes!"

"Zigmund, you know well enough that we cannot depend on magic alone to differentiate our inventions from humanity's. Besides, if your introduction before your hire is anything to go by, I highly doubt they would trust someone like you to demonstrate new, untested models of explosives. If it wasn't for your heroic deeds after, I would not have had the board's agreement."

"Well, those stingy members of yours won't let me teach any classes, neither! What's the word on my latest submission, huh? Lemmie guess, a big, fat nope!"

"I've iterated this to you prior; Piltover is simply not ready for your…level of proficiency regarding demolitions."

"And when will they be!? Huh!? I thought this was the City of Progress, not the City of Being Scared of Yordles!"

"This city is **not** scared of yordles, Zigmund! **They are scared of—!**"

Silent altogether. Ziggs' bared teeth hid away, and his rage subsided into misery. He didn't need to hear Heimerdinger finish that, and, by the looks of it, he knew Ziggs understood the full extent of his outburst. He wanted to apologize and tell him to wait until after the funding and expansion, though lying would not do the situation any better.

A cold sting of alienation slowed Ziggs' steps back to the stool as he dragged it to the center workbench and hunched forward.

"Just…leave, would ya? And knock next time. Revisions'll be out next week."

Part of Heimerdinger wanted to press the issue, and another simply wanted to ask if Rumble was still here. Yet, none of those came forth, and he was left to take his leave. The damage was done, and his plan was a failure. He cursed himself for his second outburst, growing tired of emotions getting the better of him. Another attempt to speak up fell short as he pulled the steel door closed with a hang of his head and an echoing clang.

Not to be undone, Ziggs hung over his scattered blueprints with heavy ears and a heavier heart. Though he took a pencil in hand, he had no intention of drawing out much of anything. Not now, and if this feeling of futility persisted, not ever. What was the point? If it was his own idea, they'd reject it under the guise of careful consideration, and if it was an assigned revision, he'd feel more inclined to do anything else but.

His homeland thought him a monster and, in his attempt to escape it, found naught but the same feeling in a different setting. His plan was falling apart, outlook crumbling in front of his eyes as his schematics felt more akin to children's scribbles than a professional's layout.

"_Give up,"_ his mind told him. _"Give up on everything you have, want, and wish to be. You will never achieve the greatness a human can."_

Behind him clanged the noisy locker door, opening with a long squeak.

"Figured something was up when I heard you leave," Rumble spoke up. After a pause, half expecting Ziggs to respond, he continued, "Dusty locker. Classic hiding spot, right?"

A smirk did nothing to lighten to mood, he'd get more reaction out of a statue than Ziggs right now. He let out of a halfhearted chuckle, then locked the laboratory door. There were few times in his life where he'd seen Ziggs so dismally defeated - each felt like the first. Still, from what Rumble just witnessed, his friend's search for greener pastures wasn't what he thought it would be, trying to achieve the near-impossible dream: benevolent destruction.

Rumble walked toward the other, "So, this is what you've been doing since you left? Just looking at other humans' inventions?" No response. "What happened to all your ideas?"

Nothing but blanks stares and a persistent frown. Rumble gritted his teeth.

"Listen to me, Ziggs. We _really _need to get out of here! Heimerdinger was looking around the lab…for me. He's looking for any excuse to get rid of you, and having proof that you're smuggling me in is a perfect reason. Hate to sound like a broken record, but we gotta go. I don't know where…but your calling isn't here. Not with humans like that old man and bootlicking Heimerdickless around."

It seemed Rumble was at the heart of Ziggs' worries and troubles in Piltover, and it was hardly a topic he wanted to speak of. He wondered how long Ziggs would have kept this a secret. Was it because Rumble harbored such hatred for these people? Spite or not, Rumble wasn't keen on helping humans with their ideas, yet, he was more than ready to do anything with Ziggs, just as he'd been craving for the past year.

He had to get through to him, and that required the big guns.

"…hey. What do you call a selfish bomb?" Rumble offered. After a pause, he gave him the answer, "Mine."

Ziggs' ear twitched, the only movement Rumble had seen since he sat down. He knew he was getting somewhere as a smirk curled up his cheek.

"What do you call a monkey with a bomb?"

Ziggs looked just the slighted hint over, waiting.

"A baboom."

…

…

…

…

…

…

Ziggs snorted, shoulders subtly rising. And just one more to bring it on home, "Did you hear about the guy who made a bomb out of a brain?"

"…_no_," Ziggs stifled his chortling.

"Yeah, it was pretty mind-blowing."

He could stifle no more, throwing his head back, palm slapping the top of the workbench in a guttural guffaw. His legs swung back and forth, and his arms held his middle as if he had been stabbed by the more humorous of daggers. This happiness, Rumble dismissed so frequently, was something he took for granted, never understanding its vitalness until it was gone.

He loved seeing Ziggs this way; it filled his mangled heart with such warmth that not even the exhaust from a tailpipe could compare.

"Gahahaha! Oh, buddy, you're killin' me over here! Hahahaha!"

"I know," Rumble crossed his arms.

"Oh, _man_, those were so good! Ahaaa!"

"No. No, they weren't. I guess I just know you too well," he shrugged. "Feel a little better now?"

Ziggs lifted his goggles and wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes, slipping a titter as he covered them again.

"You bet! A whole lot better! For the most part. Well, sorta. I mean, things are still… Y'know, I can't really…" Looking back at the scattered schematics brought him back down from his high, "No."

Rumble sighed, edging close enough to peer up at Ziggs on the stool, "Worth a shot, I guess."

"Oh, what am I gonna do, buddy? Everywhere I go, I'm just a…" Ziggs' palms curled into fists, "…a monster. A big ol' misfit. I haven't done anything wrong this time!"

"Well, I wouldn't say _big,_ necessarily. But the people here wouldn't trust a yordle with a flower in his hand, let alone a bomb. What Heimer's trying to do is stupid; we don't need this place or its people. We've been just fine without humans, and we've got nothing to prove to them."

"I just…wanted to be…_more_, y'know? All that time in Bandle alone…really gets the better of ya."

"You don't have to remind me. It took a solid few Cycles for your fur to lighten and your eyes to green up again. And hey! You weren't alone the whole time, asshole!"

"Heh, that's right," Ziggs smiled, reaching down to poke Rumble's nose. "Just couldn't shake this blue critter hangin' around me."

Now the blue yordle was glaring, pouting in embarrassment as he swatted the finger away and crossed his arms again.

He scoffed, "More like I couldn't stop this big, loud idiot from barging into my garage every day."

Ziggs giggled, never having enough of teasing his blue bomber, "Hey, that's when we got our best work done! Don't forget all the stuff we gotta get back to. Those Bombastic Bombardier Battlebots aren't gonna stand up on their own!"

"Neither is Tristy if I don't go back to maintaining her."

"Aw, attachment issues?" Ziggs extended his bottom lip.

"Shut up."

"Besides, you'll be back to your garage in no time!"

"I'm not leaving without you, Ziggs. Who knows what this place'll pull next?"

"Who said you were going alone?"

Rumble's eyes widened, his mouth an 'o' of overwhelmed hope, "You mean…?"

Indeed, he did. Never in the last year would Ziggs have thought of his life without the Academy. And yet, here he was, seeing such a world. It didn't look as barren as he thought with a glimmer of opportunity in the distance. Though he could not see over the horizon before, standing atop his failures and shortcomings, he could see just beyond it. There, a single figure amongst the limitless possibilities stood. Suddenly, Ziggs felt that he had everything he needed, and the Academy became all that much smaller.

"Who needs this overgrown city anyway, yeah? I bet we could be the coolest traveling band of yordle inventors ever! Just think of it!" Ziggs jumped to his feet, standing tall atop the stool and stretching his hands to the ceiling, "You and me on the road across Runeterra! Tristy hulling our latest and greatest bots and bombs for all to see!"

"I… don't think she can handle that kind of distance yet. Or weight."

"Everywhere we go, showin' people a whole new perspective! A whole new world of yordle technology that'll make their heads spin! Then, we dart off to the next place! I bet we'll get so many new ideas along the way. _Ooooh_, my head's spinnin' already!"

"Yeah, mine too," Rumble eased, "Just calm down, would ya? Let's focus on getting home first before turning into some traveling circus."

"Heheheh. Sorry, buddy," Ziggs jumped down, his smile ear-to-ear and thoughts adrift.

"Glad to know you're finally seeing things my way. For a second there, I thought they were totally in your head. Now we can start packing up and booking the next ship to Yordleland. And good riddance, too. This smuggling fiasco had been killing my back," Rumble stretched himself out.

"I'll still feel bad for squanderin' all Heimy's given me. He really did wanna see me do some good here around here, and I just..."

"Blew it?"

"Wow, you're _killin'_ it with the jokes today, Rumble!"

"That's not what I— Sure, thanks, but stay focused. Heimer wants you out, and that's exactly what he's gonna get. Never needed a bootlicker like him anyway. Now help me roll up these layouts."

Rumble sifted through the layers of papers covering the workbench before Ziggs interjected, "Wait! We can't just walk out now!"

"Eh? Why not? I wanted to flip off Heimerdumbfuck on our way out. And if you're gonna deny me that, we're about to have another cherry bomb war."

"No, no, no, no, no! By all means! But you know me, buddy…" A deviously toothy grin crept along his muzzle, "I always like to go out with a _bang_."

Rumble furrowed his brow at this, eyes darting around in confusion, "You wanna…blow up the Academy? Jeez, Ziggs, I thought that woulda came outta my mouth before yours."

"What? No! I'm not makin' that same mistake again! I meant that I wanna make one last good impression before hightailing it and showing these guys what they're missin' out on!"

"By blowing up…_a little bit_ of the Academy?"

Ziggs tugged his ears and grit his teeth before thrusting a finger pointing past Rumble. The other looked over his shoulder, recalling the list of assignments he saw on the first day of his visit. When Rumble looked back with a confused scrunch.

"Your assignments? About _other people's_ ideas? Ziggs, I get this is an academy and all, but you don't _actually_ need to do your homework before you leave this dump. You're not getting graded on this shit."

"Ah, ah, ah," Ziggs snaked around Rumble, waving his finger before snatching the list off the wall. "You're seein' this all wrong, buddy. Everyone in the world piggybacks off someone else's ideas, yeah? Just like those silly cartoons and your mech when we were younger!"

"You said you wouldn't bring that up again…"

"Heimy gave me these models to look over to keep me from expanding on my own inventions. He knew I'd be running in circles if I actually did 'em! But I think I've got a way to work them all out," Ziggs grinned as he brought the paper up.

"Which is…?" Rumble tapped his foot.

"Well, let's look at it! This one says to test optimal blue essence potency in upgraded hextech generators."

"_Thrilling_," he rolled his eyes.

"It is! Because I think what they meant to say was…a throw-able hexplosive charge that latches onto walls and detonates on command!"

Rumble's brow raised at that, starting to see where Ziggs was going with this. He smiled, more curious about the list than ever before.

"And this one!" Ziggs slid his finger down, "It says to create adaptive piezoelectric transducers to convert energy from mana crystals _and_ other conventional conductive materials. _But_…looks like there's a typo. I think what they meant to say was—"

"A bomb with a shell bouncy enough to fly over enemy walls?"

Ziggs snapped his fingers, "Hey, you're a wisecracker **and** a mind reader!"

Rumble moved shoulder to shoulder with him to read along, "They want an upgraded cryo-cooling unit to sustain high-output generators?"

"No, no, _no!_ You're readin' that all wrong, buddy. What it **actually **says is to…make a pressure-sensitive frag grenade!"

"Except the frags are more, smaller grenades?" Excitement built up in Rumble's voice as the two faced each other.

"That arm on primary contact!?"

Their anticipation knew no bounds, and neither did they as foreheads pressed together.

"And explode on secondary contact!" Rumble cheered.

Then, their voices were one, "And leave a caustic paste behind to slow their roll!"

Bursting with laughter, their heads flew back, holding themselves as if their sides would reach orbit otherwise. Rumble had listened to Ziggs' laughter to near exhaustion throughout their lives, but for Ziggs, hearing his Rumble's genuine howl was rare. He loved every scarce fit, and nothing could bring him more happiness than Rumble's.

The exhilaration was boiling over for Ziggs as he darted off to throw open a drawer, taking as many blank scrolls as his arms could hold.

"If this is gonna be my last day, then let's make 'em wish it wasn't, buddy! Haha!"

And threw them into the air to scatter like streamers.

* * *

The elevator was quiet as the two occupants stood side by side, staring at the numbers above the doorway. Though empty otherwise, the space swam with tension.

Gustaav was the first to speak up, "…my apologies, Mr. Heimerdinger. I wanted to keep him for longer. However, he just seemed to…bolt off without a moment's notice. I couldn't stop him. I'm truly sorry."

With a built-up sigh, he massaged his brow and cleaned off his goggles, "It is of little fault of your own. Zigmund's behavior is as sporadic as his attention span. In addition, the executed plan was elevated in both risk and reward. However, the reward was unable to be located, yet my intuitions lead me to believe that it is still located within the vicinity."

"But where?"

"If I knew the answer to that, my assistant, we would not find ourselves in this predicament, would we?"

"I suppose."

"The amalgam of impediments recently has drawn me away from my magnum opus. Once the situation is resolved, in conjunction with the completion of my Piltover Guardian, the clansmen will find themselves hard-pressed for criticism."

_Ding!_

The doors parted, Heimerdinger exiting first with his eyes fixed on the other, "Come, come. It is back to the drawing for us, in—D'oof!"

He didn't make it very far as his body smashed against a long leg planted sturdy on the ground. Stumbling back, he shook his head, "Oh, my apologies! That was very haphazard of me…officer!?"

Trailing his eyes up, the leg was adorned in a combination of cloth, metal paddings, and belts that led up to an armored torso with a wide belt of its own. Firm hands rested atop rolling hips below bandaged arms, metallic curves along her shoulders, and a chest rising to a smug, branded face with hair a burning pink. Behind, her imposing gauntlets strapped against her back.

Nearly a 90-degree angle, she bent down over Heimerdinger.

"Sup, nerd?"

"Vi, please," the other familiar figure spoke up.

Boots of brown leather and gold metal, they rode up to her knees with belts similar to Vi's serving as the only cover to her otherwise bare legs. Her outfit, more akin to a small dress, skirted around her hips and the slope of her curves. Brown, fingerless gloves held each bare arm and cradled her bosom. Much like the torso, her neck wore its own white and purple skirt with a lock of dark hair extending down from her towering hat. Only more intimidating than her headwear was her armament, a complicated rifle that rested at the ready along her backside.

"Let's be a little professional about this, shall we?" Caitlyn advised, earning her a playful scoff.

Imitating a posh and proper accent, Vi stuck her nose up and took a sip of her imaginary tea.

"_Oh, Profess-ah Heimerding-ah, it's so __**good**__ to see you on this fine day. Mmm, yes._"

With a typical sigh, Caitlyn shook her head and extended a hand down to him.

"Professor. It's good to see you."

Amid his confusion, Heimerdinger cleared his throat and returned the handshake. Despite the differences in their sizes, the common gesture was for the yordle to hold larger fingers and the human rest their thumb over the offered hand.

"Yes, I would agree, however, I must ask: is something the matter? While your presence inviting and assuaging, I fear that your occupations have led you to believe that there is a legal disruption in the vicinity."

"Man, that…is adorable," Vi chuckled. "So small. So brainy. I can't with yordles, man." She gasped when Gustaav joined Heimerdinger's side, "Yo! Look at this one! Look how big those glasses are! You kiddin' me? Look at this shit!"

Swiping them off his face, much to his surprise, she inspected every which way. A squinty snarl was quick to beam at her.

Caitlyn continued, "…right. I'm sure you're curious as to why we're here. I'll explain the details…in private. May we retire to your office?"

Heimerdinger rubbed his temples and groaned, "Oh, how my personal quarters have been corrupted into a place of pensiveness. Very well, I am in no position to object, regardless."

"Hey, check me out. I'm— Eh?" Vi, just short of wearing the round glasses for another humorous impression, now searched her person for them. Only when she saw them affixed onto Gustaav again did she find them. "What the…? How…?"

"Stop teasing the yordles, would you?" Caitlyn advised. "Honestly, you've scared away half of the ones we've spoken to. Now then, shall we?"

Vi traded glances with Gustaav before following suit.

Anxiety had never released its grip around Heimerdinger's heart since the touring event and felt more normalized than he'd want. The presence of Piltover's most notable law enforcers only tightened that grip, mind storming with what business they could possibly have. His thoughts brought him to Ziggs almost immediately, wondering what horrifying destruction he may have wrought outside of the Academy. He could only imagine what this would look like to Jago and hoped that word wouldn't spread to him too quickly.

His body on autopilot, Heimerdinger was surprised to find himself already outside his office door, rummaging for his keys and opening the door to invite them in.

"In a moment, Professor," Caitlyn raised her palm. "I just need a word with my partner before we begin."

"Of course," the nervous yordle nodded, the mask of professionalism hardly veiled his uneasy composure as he stepped in with Gustaav.

With a click of the door, the two women huddled close, speaking in soft breaths.

"Right," Caitlyn began, "We'll need to approach this carefully. The information we're trying to confirm is delicate, and we're going to need a plan."

Vi hummed in fruitless thought, "What did ya have in mind?"

"I was thinking something along the lines of a little…role-playing."

That made the other smirk, leaning in further, "I thought we were saving that for tonight, cupcake?"

A look of half-lidded dissatisfaction sunk Caitlyn's face and shoulders, "…that's not what I meant. I meant something along the lines of good cop/bad cop. Understand? If we can establish some form of antipathy, they may become more amenable to giving us the information once I step in."

Caitlyn could tell the plan was sinking in slowly for her partner as slow nodding turned into a more reassuring smile.

"_Oh…_I gotchya. Loud and clear, cupcake!"

While Vi may have been confident, Caitlyn watching her slide the large gauntlets over her arms wasn't giving off the same feeling.

"Wait, what are you—?"

_**BANG!**_ Vi kicked the door open with a furious push of her foot. The unsuspecting yordles inside jumped and quivered at the approaching officer.

**"Alright, assholes! Get talkin'! NOW!"** she shouted, pounding her large, metallic fists together.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Heimerdinger shouted to no avail.

**"I want some info, so you better start SPILLIN'!"**

As she loomed over Heimerdinger's desk, he could do naught shake in his seat.

"W-w-w-what information are you referring to!?"

**"You think this is a fuckin' GAME!? You think I won't DO IT, MOTHERFUCKER!?"**

**"Do what!?"**

He was about to find out. With Gustaav firmly shaking in the corner, Vi, using her unmitigated strength and rage, took hold of both sides of the yordle's dark, wooden desk and lifted it high over them, screaming bloody murder.

**"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"**

And Heimerdinger, too.

**"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"**

Back outside, the door was closed again, and Caitlyn tapped her foot at the slightly embarrassed Vi rubbing her unequipped arm.

"…too much?" Vi sheepishly grinned.

Caitlyn sighed deep enough to reach even the sewers of Zaun, "A little. New plan: I will go question them first."

"Then I—"

"Then, you do nothing. Easy enough?"

With a puff of her cheeks, Vi crossed her arms in protest.

"Fine. Whatever."

Heimerdinger didn't know whether to cower or not at the next click of the door opening, and seeing Caitlyn's composed figure was only a slight relief.

"My sincerest apologies, Professor. Her…anti-psychotics weren't delivered today."

Vi tried to interject, "Hey, wait, I don't —"

"She won't act up again. May we have a seat here?" she motioned at the two cushiony chairs in front of his desk.

"If…there are no more sudden, violent outbursts and risks of property damage inside my office, then yes, you may."

The two took their seats, a reserved leg cross from Caitlyn, and a nonchalant fall onto Vi's bottom.

"Now then," Heimerdinger cleared his throat, "It has been far too long. I must know the nature of your arrival, officers."

"I'll be frank with you, Heimerdinger," Caitlyn looked him in the eyes, "We were sent to conduct an investigation of the Academy under Jago Medarda's orders."

"Jago's!? My word…" Heimerdinger scratched his chin, "What could have possibly prompted him to give such an order? …oh dear."

_"I'm holding a nuke!" _he could hear Ziggs exclaim proudly in his head, standing tall on his faux bomb.

Caitlyn's keen eye could tell from the look in Heimerdinger's that realization had set in, and they were approaching the same wavelength.

She continued, "I understand you have many yordles and humans employed and admitted into this Academy. Since its founding, we have had little reason to be skeptical about its activities. However, as of recently, for perhaps a year now, that has not been the case."

Half-expecting the yordle to fill in her thoughts, the other half was obliged instead.

"I would ask for you to elaborate on this," Heimerdinger folded his hands.

The two enforcers looked at one another, mutually aware of his tergiversation.

She pressed on, pulling out a small notebook from her pocket, "Since we arrived here, we have questioned several individuals about any changes in the organization and if they had any concerns for their safety here."

While Heimerdinger would pride the Academy on their excellent practices and procedures, he still sprung a leak at the first thought of unsafe students, his fur dampening above his brow. He even looked towards Gustaav for reassurance.

"How…did they respond, if I may ask?"

Caitlyn flipped the page, "They are concerned, Professor. Some, _very_ concerned."

Now the sweat trickled past his eye, "Why would they say such? I can assure you that the Academy is, first and foremost, a safe area to facilitate the knowledge we bestow upon our prospective inventors! I must say, I am growing exhausted reiterating this to others. It has been this way since its founding."

"Were there any major changes that occurred a year ago? Construction? Tuition?" her eyes led right back up to Heimerdinger's, "Hires?"

He could feel them progressing further and further to the focal point. Despite his feigned naivety and inner denials, he could hardly keep them away.

"That is an exceedingly challenging question to answer, sheriff. An exuberant number of events have unfolded in a Cycle's span as we are a very rapidly progressing organization."

"Then let's narrow down the points of interest, shall we? A number of yordles have brought up an incident that occurred a year ago when a certain…Zigmund Quark was employed, yes?"

The bead now trailed down his cheek next to his perturbed laugh, "Ohoho! That? Why, yes, before Zigmund was hired, he committed a harmless mistake with one of his presentations! While it did lead to some…misplaced staff, the situation was quickly remedied by Zigmund himself, and he has thus proved himself an invaluable source of knowledge in his field."

"We're well aware of Zaun's break-in due to that accident, Professor. But that is not the incident I'm, nor they are, referring to."

"I haven't the faintest idea of any other incidents occurring here."

"Oh, c'mon!" Vi blurted, unable to withhold herself as her palms slammed on the chair's armrests, "Quit playin' dumb! You know exactly what we're talking about!"

Caitlyn would have stopped her partner's outburst if she were not nearing that point herself. She let her continue, "We know you yordles weren't here until a few years ago. You guys came around to build this place, and then a bunch more showed up. Every time we asked when this "incident" happened, it always dated back before you guys got here! So…"

"This has led us to believe that this event is a large, if not the sole, reason for the formation of the Yordle Academy of Science and Progress," Caitlyn added, leaning forward in her seat, "Meaning that you were still residing in Yordleland at the time of this event. Specifically, Bandle City, as the incident precedes any record of your residence here."

Heimerdinger needed to clasp his hands tightly to steady their shaking. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to think back of all the years of ingenuity and creation lost in the blaze. But he was cornered, and he wasn't one to withhold information that would prove valuable to a force as crucial as The Wardens. The pieces were coming together in his head, imagining Jago approaching them to rid the Academy of Ziggs. Perhaps he and the clansman shared the same vision, and his plan to dismiss Ziggs himself would be taken care of in better hands. At that moment, he gave himself more of what he'd been force-feeding himself since Ziggs' hire: hope.

Heimerdinger only needed to wait for the question he knew would inevitably be asked.

"Professor," Caitlyn turned a new page in her small notebook, "I need you to recall the events in Bandle City, Yordleland all those years ago in which 'The Incident' took place…to the best of your memory."

"Please, Miss Caitlyn!" Gustaav suddenly shouted out, "It was no one's fault! N-no one was to blame for it! It was all just a—"

Heimerdinger raised his hand up, "That's enough, my assistant. They have every right to know what transpired. The truth. It may be wholly recognized as an unpleasant aspect of our history, yet it is our history, nonetheless. It cannot and should not be erased, only accepted, and learned upon."

Gustaav's ears drooped, stepping back with little more to say than a distressed sigh.

With a long breath, Heimerdinger gathered his thoughts and ordered his memories behind closed eyes, opening them when ready. His voice was hoarse with sorrow.

"I remember that night…vividly, almost."

His gaze turned to the window along the right wall.

"The night…that Bandle's industry died."

Through the glass pane, Heimerdinger could see…

* * *

…_the smoke billowing in the distance._

_"Oh no! Oh dear! Oh no!" the muddled yordle could barely throw his coat and shoes on as he fell into his wooden door, joining the many others scattering to the scene under the night sky. His mind was in disbelief, unaccepting of the situation's magnitude. The yordles of Al'gana Grove filled the terrace, and the spiral staircases emptied them into the lower levels. Courtesy eluded him as he shoved past tightly knit groups and squeezed between pairs. _

_"Excuse me! Please! I must come through!"_

_Out in the open plazas left more room for a frantic rush, yordles standing in groups to watch the blaze from afar. Faces stricken with dismay, covered mouths agape in shock as the distant flames birthed black clouds to suffocate the stars. They were nothing but blurs to Heimerdinger and sought himself down the dirt-laden Charolily Roads._

_The tinkerers from the Finktop Branch would be furious. The scientists from the Grand Trunk would be inconsolable. They would all collapse to their knees, knowing their countless Cycles of research and gadgets nothing more than glorified firewood now. His chest was heavy beneath his clenched coat, heaving whines and whimpers as the fires drew near. Some shouted for him to not run any further, and scouts warned of the dangers of spreading flames. None of their voices reached Heimerdinger's ears; his screaming thoughts were all he could hear._

"No! No, no, no! This cannot be! Not now! Not when we were so close!"

_The back of a dense crowd walled him off, fidgeting and sidestepping to no avail. Their yelling and chatter drowned out his commands._

_"Please! I must know what has happened! I beg you! Step aside!"_

_Then, they were all silent. In sudden organization, the crowd parted down the center, freeing the path. For a moment, Heimerdinger believed they truly heeded his desperate words, that is, until he saw the figure walking towards him. He dressed simply: no shoes, brown, loinclothed pants with a yellow sash adorned with leaves. A circlet of wood and twining flowers branched between his ears, his cane following each step into the dirt. The glowing jade jewel like a guiding light amidst the night, the leader of the city's yordles._

_Behind him, the rest of the road led up to the Industrial District's gates, and just beyond them, inferno. Like a curtain, it flooded and obscured anything that was once intact. Though trees were abundant around this area, the flames kept confined to the district's borders as if they were only interested in destroying his legacy._

_"Mayor Jadefellow!" Heimerdinger called out to him, rushing to his side, "Please, tell me! What has happened here!?"_

_"The Industrial District is no more," he uttered stoically, his feet never stopping. "Everyone return to your homes! The fire will no long spread!"_

_Heimerdinger needed to walk faster to keep up, though his head whipped between the mayor and the blaze behind them. Did he not care for their many efforts reducing to ash?_

_"But how!? How could this happen!? Who…or what has done this!?"_

_He hadn't noticed it before, too occupied with the catastrophe at hand. Draped over the mayor's right shoulder, kicking and screaming, was the young, blue-furred yordle he'd seen only rarely._

_"__**Let me go! Let me go! He's still in there! What's wrong with you!? Aaahhh!"**_

_Holler as he did, every punch, kick, bite, and scratch did naught to stop Dennison. Questions were mounting over one another in an overwhelming heap. Was anyone really trapped in there? Did the boy start it? Could they not go back?_

_Cold words kindled in the heated air, "I have sealed the district off with magic. The flames will stifle on their own. There is nothing left to do here."_

_"Please, there must be something we can do! Isn't there anything we can do to salvage our work!? Surely we can use our magic to quell the flames instead—"_

_"__**Cecil,**__" Dennison stopped. He looked over his free shoulder while the other was thoroughly gnawed, seeing Heimerdinger shake like a leaf. He sighed, "I'm sorry. These…machines. Bandle was never meant for such artificial creations. I trusted you and your colleagues to do what no one else in Yordleland would allow. Now I have seen the error in my ways."_

_"It doesn't have to end here, Mayor! We were so close to proving ourselves… You must give us another chance! We can recover from this!"_

_"__**No more! **__…no more. I have witnessed the repercussions of yordles meddling in affairs that belong to humans firsthand now. Leave them to their own devices, Cecil, and I mean that in every sense of the word. We realize our place in this world as yordles," with a bump of his shoulder, he readjusted the clawing Rumble for a better hold. _

_"Now, go home, Cecil, so that you may realize yours."_

_[PLAY CHRONO CROSS – DREAM FRAGMENTS (1:35) HERE]_

_With that, Mayor Jadefellow continued down Charolily Road with the others, Rumble's desperate cries gone unnoticed._

_"__**Let go of me! I have to save him! Please! He's gonna die in there!" **__He reached out a futile hand towards the burning district, eyes bursting with tears, "__**Ziggs! ZIIIIIGGS!**__"_

_Powerless, they felt. Not a single shred of hope remained in their broken minds. Others would walk past Heimerdinger with their own apologies and sympathies, yet they all fell on deaf ears. Those ears sunk to the ground along with his knees. He shook his head, in disbelief, he cupped his hands over his face._

_All gone, he thought. His research, his inventions, the ingenious ideas brought together by the city's greatest minds—all of it drifting into the sky, a hopeless black._

_The mayor was right; there was nothing left to do here. And so, Heimerdinger sat on his knees and cried, silently wishing his tears were enough to extinguish the blaze. But they weren't enough, nothing he did was ever enough. Even at the cusp of greatness, the very peak of inspiration for yordles everywhere, it wasn't enough._

_It was the only time Heimerdinger could remember feeling just like that boy. Just like Rumble._


End file.
